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LEAD ON, GOOD ROBIN 99 




BOLD -ROBIN and m s 
FOREST- RANGERS- 



»v CAROLINE BROWN 
DRAWINGS by F.I.BENNETT 

— . NEW YORK •— ► 

E P DUTTON^nd COMPANY 

51 WEST TWENTY THIRD ST. 


IBHARYol CONGRESS 
\ WO Copies rfeceiveu 


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AUG 12 1905 

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7 2 3 70 S' 

COPY 6. 




Copyright, 1905 

BY 

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 


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.BVs 


Published, September, 1905 





Ube IRnicfterbocfeer iPvess, IRew Jtiorfe 


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TO 


Four Merry Men 

ROBERT and RICHARD 
LEWIS and WILLIAM 

LOVERS OF THE GREENWOOD 
AND 

FAITHFUL HENCHMEN OF BOLD ROBIN HOOD 


THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED 






CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Robin Hood’s Pennyworth ... 3 

George O’ Green and Robin Hood . 39 

Round Robin Hood’s Barn ... 79 

The Doughty Page .... 105 

Jock O’ Nimble Heels . . . 141 

The Feast in the Forest . . . 171 


v 


* 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“ Lead on, Good Robin.” Frontispiece 181 
Robin Hood . . Title Page 

He was a mere stripling ... 20 

The clashing of staves kept up . *50 

She shook her crooked finger in 

George’s face .... 59 

“ I did see him, my lord ” . . .86 

One by one they came and peeped at 

him sleeping . . . .124 

Many were the errands Judith made 

to the mill 156 

vii 




ROBIN HOOD’S PENNY- 
WORTH 




\ 


c 






















ROBIN HOOD’S PENNY- 
WORTH 


DY the reedy margin of a softly 
^ flowing stream stood a man 
clad all in green. A stringed bow 
and long oak staff lay at his feet, 
and behind him in a careless heap 
had fallen his mantle of cloth. 
Over one shoulder was slung a 
quiver with arrows crowding — not 
one spent ; over the other, a silver 
hunting-horn. But to none of 
these he gave heed. He was 
watching the bubbles rise and 
break again and again on a dark 
still pool four paces away under 
the roots of an oak that bewimp- 
led the stream. It lay smooth and 


3 


4 


Bold Robin 


uncrumpled by a breath of wind, 
nor crinkled by the tiniest wave. 

“’T is an otter spoiling the fish- 
ing. Would I had my trusty spear 
of white thorn, and the thieving 
rogue would soon be done for ! ” 

He looked about him for some- 
thing with a sharp point that would 
serve as a spear. Failing to find 
it he picked up a thick bit of wood 
like a cudgel. Drawing back he 
threw itwith all his might at the spot 
whence the bubbles rose, grunt- 
ing loud as it hurtled through the 
air. There was a splash, and a cry 
from an ousel-hen as she scurried 
away into deeper tangles of the 
sedge with her brood. 

“ The varlet hath fled unharmed 
to his vent ! Well, well, ’t was 
little better than a gib-cat 1 But 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 5 

there ’s a difference ’twixt hair that 
even an empty paunch takes note 
of. Yon small beast might have 
furnished forth my supper ! ” And 
he sighed windily. 

“ It hath been truly a day of hard 
luck for the Free-lance I The dun 
deer are yet in the velvet and have 
sought the densest thickets to rid 
themselves of their rags. ’T is 
not Robin Hood would harm a fel- 
low in distress !” 

He picked up his jaunty green 
cap, clapped it on his head, and 
settled his quiver. Sticking his 
long oak staff into the ground for a 
leaping-pole, he rose lightly in 
the air like a fleet-winged lark and 
vaulted clean over the stream, a 
matter of seven paces. 

Across on the other side he found 


6 


Bold Robin 


himself in a wide glebe deserted 
now by the swineherd and his 
swine, and beasts of nobler sort. 
Far to the west he saw a long, 
wavering white line, which he knew 
to be the geese homeward bent, 
followed by the small gooseherd. 
Soon they dipped down out of 
sight. He cast his keen eye round 
but naught could he see like tree 
or hut. 

The sun was just going down 
as big as Good-man Hoskins’s large 
ale butt, red with the promise of 
a fair dawning. To the east the 
full moon was slowly rising, peep- 
ing slyly over the green edge of 
the earth to see if her rival were 
out of sight that he might not 
quench her paler glory. Tiny 
flecks of light were beginning to 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 7 

speckle the heavens, whereon were 
waved from the clutching hand of 
the south wind, long, narrow stream- 
ers of rosy clouds over the black- 
blue of the night sky. The low of 
kine, reminding the loitering maid 
of milking time, came faintly on 
his ear. He took his way toward 
the sound. As he walked he car- 
olled loudly: 

‘ ‘ Empty paunch and empty purse 
Naught in this wide world be 
worse, 

Save that I should hap to be 
Torn away from the Greenwood 
tree ! ” 

As the twilight deepened he 
saw afar a faint thread of smoke, 
which, blue by day, was white by 
night. 


8 


Bold Robin 


“Ah,” he cried, “’Tis said, 

‘ there ’s no smoke without fire ! ’ 
At this hour there ’s no fire with- 
out sup ! Mayhap I may get from 
the good-wife an oat-cake or a 
bowl of barley porridge.” 

He hastened his steps and soon 
caught sight of a hut made of sod 
and ozier-twigs, the roof thatched 
with long sedge from the stream’s 
edge, held in place by big stones. 
He paused by the open door and 
looked in. A small fire of fagots 
was smouldering in the middle of 
the earthern floor, and the smoke 
that did not stay in the hut went 
out at a hole in the roof. Six little 
porridge pots stood on the ground 
around a pannikin on the fire. 
The good woman of the house 
was dipping out with a wooden 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 9 

paddle a small portion of porridge 
into each pot. Standing about 
waiting for their suppers, with lips 
slavering and eyes smarting from 
smoke so they could scarce see, 
were six urchins, in age from a 
babe nigh two years old to a lad of 
ten in a smock-frock ; the rest wore 
shifts of homespun linen. 

She gave to each in turn, be- 
ginning with the youngest, who 
sat him down at once on the floor 
and began to blow lustily into the 
hot porridge, puffing out his cheeks 
round as the full moon outside. 
Then dipping in his fingers ate of 
it so hot that tears trickled down 
his cheeks. When it was all gone 
he raised the bowl to his mouth, 
and with deft red tongue licked off 
the last morsel. So did they all 


IO 


Bold Robin 


save one, the lad in the smock- 
frock. 

Robin eyed them, his own lips 
drivelling. 

“ Hunger needs no sauce, they 
say; i’ faith these small-fry prove 
how true ’t is ! ” he said aloud. 

The sound of a strange voice 
made the good-wife turn quickly 
about with her wooden paddle in 
her hand. 

“My good dame, canst spare 
me a pennyworth o’ that mess?” 
asked Robin, doffing his green cap. 

“ ’T is my last spoonful, and the 
meal-tub ’s empty,” she said, hesi- 
tating. 

“ But a pennyworth, my good 
dame,” he urged. He thrust his 
hand deep into the pocket of his 
leathern doublet and drew it out 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth ix 

with naught save some shining 
pebbles and green acorns in it. A 
sheepish look o’ercast his counte- 
nance, and he stammered : 

“ Methought I had it by me, 
good dame. I ’m sore pressed by 
hunger. Since early morn I ’ve 
ranged the forest through in quest 
of game. Thou knowest the deer 
are in the velvet, and have sought 
seclusion in the boskiest coppices. 
I’ faith, ’t would seem the fish and 
fowl had kept them company : 
Not a bite hath passed my lips 
since yester-eve. I’m no alms- 
man ! Robin Hood would starve 
before he’d beg! ” 

“Art Robin Hood, the Free- 
lance ? ” she asked, affrighted. 
“Here, here bairns, give it me!” 
and she grabbed their porridge- 


12 


Bold Robin 


pots, alack! to find them empty. 
All but Jock’s — the eldest — who 
had waited to let his porridge cool. 
He looked after it ruefully as the 
dame tendered it to Robin, and 
tears ’gan to trickle down his 
cheeks, leaving a white track 
through the grime. But he was a 
sturdy lad, and bored his knuckles 
into his eyes, wiped his moist nose 
on his elbow, and said : 

“Gi’e it to him, mother. When 
I ’m a man I ’ll be one of his 
rangers, too ! ” 

Robin was so well pleased with 
this speech that he turned to the 
boy, and said : 

“Well spoke, my lad! Thou 
shalt have this and this to ’gin 
thy practice with ! ” 

And he handed him his bow and 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 13 

stripped off his quiver and slung 
it over Jock’s shoulder. The lad 
took them with a grin with de- 
light. But the dame said : 

“Nay, nay, Jock ! Thou be Far- 
mer Hoskins’s gooseherd, and gets 
six fardens a se’nnight. What’s 
to become o’ me and the bairns if 
thou takest to idling with such 
gauds as these ? ” 

“ Good- wife, let be, and give me 
half the urchin’s porridge, ’twill 
serve till I can take me to the 
Tristal Tree. Thou ’It find it 
the best pennyworth thou ’st ever 
sold 1 ” 

The dame dipped half into one 
of the emptied pots from Jock’s 
and handed it to Robin. 

As he ate slowly to make the 
meal longer, he asked : 


14 


Bold Robin 


“Where’s thy good-man?” 

“Alas ! ” she said, with quaver- 
ing voice, “ he was hanged twelve 
months agone, come Michaelmas, 
for — for — ,” and she paused with 
troubled look. 

“Ah, yes ! I bethink me ’twas 
for aping my trade ; wielding a 
free-lance, eh, dame?” and Robin 
could scarce conceal a glimmer of 
white teeth between his bearded 
lips as they parted in a grin. The 
widow wiped her eyes on her neck- 
kerchief-point, and nodded “Yes.” 

“ In truth, good woman,” quoth 
Robin, “ none but a nimble hand 
should wield a free-lance 1 I see 
good promise in Jock there, and 
some three years hence, if thou ’It 
let the lad go with me, I ’ll ’pren- 
tice him to my trade in the green- 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 15 

wood, and thou ’rt likely to see 
great profit therefrom.” 

“ But,” stammered the woman, 

“the King ” 

“Oh, ho !” Robin put in quickly, 
“is ’t right the King should eat 
all the red deer in vast Sherwood 
while thou and thine live on swine 
food ? Is ’t fair thy childer’ should 
starve with plenty at thy door?” 
“No, no !” she answered. 

“The King, ’t is said, hath a 
room full of gold 1 Thou and I 
have but — that is — I know well 
what I have, so dost thou. But I 
know not what is in thy purse.” 

“ There ’s naught,” said she. “ I 
have no purse. What need when 
there ’s ne’er a groat to put in ’t ? ” 
“The King’s forest is full of red 
and dappled deer ! The King’s 


16 Bold Robin 

purse bursteth with gold ! Yet 
thou think’st me but little better 
than a common thief! ” 

The woman started, for that was 
what she thought, and Robin’s 
putting it into words startled her. 

“Yet Robin Hood ne’er pilfered 
from any woman, nor failed in his 
word. And as for the King, he ’ll 
ne’er miss what Robin takes ! ” 
“I’d not thought on that be- 
fore,” said the dame to this crafty 
speech. 

“ And wilt thou trust me for my 
pennyworth ? ” 

“ T ’is but a small matter ! It 
can ne’er be said Good-wife Batly 
turned e’er a one away in hunger ! ” 
She’d clean forgot ’twas fright 
made her fingers grab the bowl ; 
Robin had not, and chuckled softly 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 17 

as he patted Jock’s rough, red 
poll. 

“ So this lad may go with me in 
three years? ” 

“ Even so,” said the dame, made 
yielding by Robin’s wily tongue. 

“Goode’en!” said Robin, as he 
bent his head to go through the 
low door, then turning as he moved 
off for a last word, cried : 

“I ’ll send thee a purse, one full 
of gold.” 

“I fear me thou ’It be taken 
thyself some unlucky day ! ” said 
the dame, gazing after him, admir- 
ingly, “ and a pity ’t would be ! ” 

“ ‘ When the sky falls we shall 
catch larks,’ and Robin Hood too ! ” 
gaily laughed he. 

The hour was late and the green- 
wood far. He speedily took him 


i8 


Bold Robin 


over the dew-wet grass to the for- 
est road. The bats circled round 
him, and the night insects chirped 
by the path. It was but a slender 
white track through the greenery, 
and adown it came the cry of the 
plainting owl and the far, faint note 
of the hidden nightingale. The 
breezes at play in the forest brought 
him moist, sweet odors of ripen- 
ing berries. Fenlight danced mer- 
rily in dark, damp places. Birds 
chirruped about him, wakeful in 
the moonlight, white as sunshine 
through April rain. Insects rasped 
their fiddles, tree-toads shrilled. 
The creatures of the night were 
busy with the cares the creatures 
of the day had laid aside. The 
other side of day was awake, under 
the great white moon. 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 19 

When Robin had gone down the 
road a mile or so deeper into the 
forest he heard three quick stamps 
on the ground and a single shrill 
whistle ; a rush and scurry ; and he 
knew he had disturbed a feeding 
herd. A brocket stayed behind to 
gaze at him curiously, then with a 
snort and flirt of his head he fleetly 
sought his fellows. But not before 
Robin, with the quick hand of the 
hunter, sought his bow. 

“Beshrew me! I’d clean for- 
got the lad hath it ! ’t is well 1 
What hunter worthy of the name 
would shoot in the velvet ? I still 
have my trusty clasp-knife with 
me,” drawing it from its sheath 
and running his thumb down its 
sharp edge, “ ’T will serve, should 
there be occasion!” 


20 


Bold Robin 


He proceeded onward ; not many 
paces had he covered till faintly 
came to his ear a sound so differ- 
ent from the forest tones it gave 
him disquiet. He knew it for the 
voice of one of his own kind, and, 
as he neared it, of one in distress. 
In a little dell in the midst of a 
coppice just off the forest path, by 
the bright moonlight, he saw a 
sight that make his blood creep 
chill. A man and a stag were fight- 
ing to the death, with fearful odds 
against the man. He was a mere 
stripling, clad like a soldier with 
light steel corselet and silken nether 
garments, over which were drawn 
russet leather boots to the thigh. 
His plumed steel cap, long-bow, 
and arrows were scattered far and 
wide in the fray. 



HE WAS A MERE STRIPLING 







Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 21 

He clung desperately to the 
great branching horns of the beast 
on which were ragged patches of 
velvet. The buck tossed his head 
in frenzy to free himself, churning 
the light body of the stripling up 
and down in vain effort to gore 
him. Reared high on his hind legs 
and with swift play of hoofs he tried 
to stamp him. His breath came in 
quick puffs like sobs of pain, and 
his noble eye, erstwhile soft and 
tender, shot forth red lights of 
fury. The man held on frantic- 
ally, his strength well-nigh spent, 
limp with terror. When the stag 
again lowered his tree-like horns 
he cried lustily for help. 

“Holdhard! Holdhard!” shout- 
ed Robin, as he ran to him, at the 
same time drawing his clasp-knife. 


22 


Bold Robin 


At that moment the stag gave 
a fearful lunge, reared high, and 
threw the unhappy wight sprawl- 
ing on the greensward behind him. 
Swiftly he turned to stamp him 
with his vengeful hoofs and gore 
him with his ragged horns. Robin 
rushed forward, caught the beast 
by one horn close to the head, and 
shouted : 

“Make for yon ash tree and up 
it, while I end him ! ” 

Quickly the beast turned on 
Robin. Agile of foot he sprang 
aside, and, with his free hand, 
plunged the knife to the hilt into the 
throbbing neck of the noble beast. 
It fell heavily, with loud gasps. 
Robin drew forth the knife, and 
the blood spouted high in air, to 
fall in a red shower. One groan, 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 23 

one frantic effort to rise, and the 
stag sank back dead. The fierce 
glare of the eye quickly veiled over 
with the blue death-film, and the 
limbs, but now fleet as the wind, 
were still. 

Robin looked at him sadly : “A 
noble beast,” he muttered regret- 
fully. “Mayhap a worthier life 
than his that was spared!” 

He turned and called : 

“ Sirrah, come thither ! ” 

The man slid down the tree and 
came up to him as fast as his shak- 
ing legs could bear him. He was 
a pitiable sight ! His fine array 
was in tatters, his face pale and 
scratched. 

“I thank thee, good sir! Thou 
hast saved my life ! ” he panted out, 
still scarce of breath. 


24 


Bold Robin 


“’T were a dastard act to kill 
him in the velvet!” said Robin, 
giving no heed to his speech. 
“’T was a deed unworthy a true 
hunter. But there was no choice. 
’T was life for life ! ” and he sighed 
mournfully. 

“Sir, I repent me sore!” said 
the youth, for he was naught else, 
“ but it was the first buck I ’d e’er 
set eyes on. Before I knew it the 
shaft had fled.” 

“Why not have took warning 
and ha’ fled as well?” said Robin 
curtly. 

“Thou dost not know the fever 
of the chase ! ” 

“Do I not?” and Robin smiled. 
“ Hast ne’er hunted before, youn- 
ker, that thou ’dst follow the chase, 
now?” 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 25 

“No, never!” said the youth, 
“I’m fresh from the Court in Lon- 
don-town. My sire was a valiant 
hunter in this very forest of Sher- 
wood. Many ’s the tale he ’s 
told me of the chase and — ” he 
said eagerly, “when I saw the 
stag ! ” 

“Thy blood flew to thy head, 
thy wit anywhere, thy arrow at the 
deer,” put in Robin drily, “but 
to little purpose except sore bones, 
as thou ’It find on the morrow, since 
to him who kills falls the game! ” 

“I thought him dead,” said the 
lad, ruefully, “and did but dis- 
mount to see, when up he reared 
in fierce onset, and I all unready 
for’t.” 

“Knew’st not the peril of near- 
ing a deer in its death throes?” 


26 


Bold Robin 


“ No. Sir, art thou the King’s 
forester?” 

“I ’m a forest-ranger, but hardly 
the King’s,” said Robin with a 
laugh. “ But what do you in the 
forest at this hour?” glancing up 
at the moon straight overhead, 
“’T is now midnight.” 

“My horse cast a shoe and I 
was belated at the farrier’s. I am 
Jock o’ Deane, a messenger of the 
King, sent on business of great 
import for him,” said the stripling, 
proudly. 

“And what may that be?” en- 
quired Robin. 

“As thou hast saved my life I ’ll 
tell it thee, though the prating ’s 
worth the price of my poll. I ’m 
bearing orders to the sheriff at 
Nottingham to take up one Robin 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 27 

Hood, a free-lance and bold robber 
in the King’s forest of Sherwood,” 
and the lad’s lip pursed out with 
pride. 

“Truly ’t is a valiant task! ’t is 
said four hundred of the King’s 
men durst not give onset to Robin 
and his hundred tall men and good 
rangers ! ” 

“I’ll be there to help give bat- 
tle!” quoth the youth boastfully. 

Robin grinned. “Thou ’rt some- 
what too much of a princox for 
that office, methinks.” 

“ I ’ve met Sir Roger de Gore 
in the lists and vanquished him ! ” 
swaggered Jock. 

“Thou ’st met Sir Stag in Sher- 
wood, too,” said Robin slyly, plac- 
ing his foot on the side of the dun 
deer which now lay stiff and cold. 


28 Bold Robin 

The youth turned red, and said 
humbly : 

“By y’r leave I ’ll take a lesson 
or two of you in the forest, my 
errand done.” 

“ Not a-hunting the deer ! ” quoth 
Robin stoutly. 

“Mayhap we ’ll take a crack at 
Robin Hood himself!” laughed 
the lad. 

“Aye, aye, I ’m with you there ! ” 
said Robin, nodding his head with 
energy. 

The youth caught his steed which 
was cropping the crisp dew-washed 
herbage and mounted. With his 
plumed steel cap pressed to his 
heart he bowed low to Robin, and 
then stretched forth his hand from 
which the steel gauntlet was lost 
in the fray, and said : 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 29 

“Hold forth thy hand!” and 
pressed in it a purse of gold. 
“Take it as earnest of my thanks!” 
said he. 

“No, no,” cried Robin. “But 
stay ! on your way to Nottingham 
you must pass a lone cot in the 
midst of the glebe. In it dwells 
a widowed dame with six small 
bairns. Knock at her door and 
give it her and tell her ’t is in pay- 
ment o’ the pennyworth.” 

Jock nodded “Yes,” thinking 
’twas Robin’s kith or kin. 

“And,” continued Robin, “as 
your steed seemeth sturdy you 
may as well bear to her, on croup, 
a haunch of this noble beast.” 

He quickly severed both haun- 
ches, and wrapping one in his man- 
tle of green cloth, — for Robin was 


3 ° 


Bold Robin 


ever a careless carle, — threw it on 
the back of the steed, jauncing at 
the smell of blood. 

“’T will scarce hurt your finery 1” 
he said with a grin at Jock’s rags. 
The other haunch he flung over 
his own shoulder, and with a part- 
ing wave of his hand to the youth, 
took his way adown a dimly lighted 
path leading deep into the green- 
wood, whistling merrily as he went. 
The youth rode away on the bridle 
path, his horse listing fast. By and 
by he came to the glebe and the 
bright moonlight helped him to 
readily find the cot. There all was 
still in deep sleep, save the geese 
nibbling the cool, crisp grass in the 
moonlight. He rode up to the low 
door and knocked twice before he 
could make himself heard. 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 31 

At last a sleepy voice from within 
called out : 

“ Who be you, rousing Christians 
this time o’ night ? ” 

“ A messenger to fetch thy penny- 
worth.” 

Jock was a merry lad, and could 
scarce keep from laughing at his 
own plight ; scolded by a peevish 
dame while delivering to her at dead 
of night a haunch of deer at the order 
of some yokel, he knew not whom, 
— he, a messenger of the King ! 

The dame opened a crack in the 
door and peeped out. 

“ Hand it in !” 

Jock placed the purse in her 
hand. 

“ ’T will do me no good ! ” quoth 
she tartly. “ I ’ve ne’er a groat in 
change I ” 


32 


Bold Robin 


“ Keep it all, good dame, ’t is 
thine. And here, too, is a haunch 
of prime venison for thee from the 
same hand. Truly ’t is a noble 
pennyworth ! ” 

“Now God be praised!” cried 
the dame, wide enough awake now, 
and overjoyed. “May he send 
confusion on all the enemies of 
good Robin Hood!” 

“Robin Hood? Robin Hood?” 
quavered the lad in fright. “ Is he 
of thy kin ? ” 

“ No. Better than that, he is my 
friend !” 

Then she told him of Robin’s 
visit, and the promise he had made 
her. And he in turn told her of his 
encounter in the forest, and both 
agreed there was none like Robin 
Hood. Then Jock continued on 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 33 

to Nottingham, and delivered his 
message to the Sheriff; for a good 
soldier obeys orders whatever they 
may be. With scarce an hour’s 
rest, so eager was he, by dawn he 
had set out again for the forest in 
hope of meeting Robin at the spot 
where the deer was slain. 

Sure enough! There he was, 
and alone ! 

Jock threw himself at Robin’s 
feet and cried : 

“ I have served my King faith- 
fully, and now I would serve thee!” 

“Ha, ha!” laughed Robin, 
“Thou know’st me now, and hast 
come to take a crack at Robin?” 

“Only with thee, an it please 
thee, brave Robin ; for I’d sooner fol- 
low the fortunes of so honest a rob- 
ber as thou than any knave at court.” 


34 


Bold Robin 


Robin touched him on the shoul- 
der with his oak staff as if knight- 
ing him, and said : 

“Be it so! Rise Jock o’ Nim- 
ble-heels ! Thou ’rt worthy o’ that 
name for the speed with which 
you made off to yon ash tree last 
night!” Then Robin blew three 
mellow blasts on his silver horn 
that startled the waking forest, 
and lo ! from every bush leaped a 
man in green, till about him bent 
the knee threescore men. Pointing 
to Jock he said : 

“This goodly youth hath served 
his King right honestly, and now 
would serve me. There ’s good 
mettle in him, but he hath much 
to learn that courts, ’t would seem, 
can’t teach him. What say you, 
lads, shall he be one of us?” 


Robin Hood’s Pennyworth 35 

“As you will, good Robin,” they 
cried. 

“Thou George o’ Green, and 
thou, too, Michael the Miller, take 
this carcass on your shoulders and 
we ’ll to the Tristal Tree, where 
good Friar Tuck will furnish us 
forth a savory feast.” 

Robin set forth with Jock at his 
right hand, behind him followed 
the men bearing the deer, and 
after them came the others two 
and two, a right, jovial company, 
singing lustily as they went : 

“What shall he have that killed 
the deer? 

His leathern skin and horns to 
wear. 

Then sing him home I” 








GEORGE O’ GREEN AND 
ROBIN HOOD 


37 



* 


GEORGE O’ GREEN AND 
ROBIN HOOD 


IN the dusky aisles of the green- 
1 wood carolled lustily a man, 
clad in Lincoln green from top to 
toe, as he took his way blithely 
down the woodland path : 

“Oh, give me my bent bow of 
yew; 

Oh, give me my lads so good 
and true ; 

Oh, give me my forest so wild 
and green, 

And the dappled deer the boles 
between ! ” 

“ I must take me further afield 
if I would have adventure this 


39 


40 


Bold Robin 


day,” he mused, thinking aloud. 
“’T is but five o’clock, and a good 
ten miles from Nottingham. It 
may happen a fat monk will pass, 
with purse well filled with gold.” 
Thrusting his hand into his pocket 
he drew out his empty purse and 
looked at it with rueful countenance. 
“ But alack ! mine is as empty as 
yon nest!” — glancing at a wood- 
pigeon’s nest atop a sturdy oak. 
“ ’T would be a fine frolic to fill it 
from some fat purse in the priory 
yonder.” 

A few steps brought him to a 
cool dell where bubbled a brown 
spring, but under the sun-rays 
sparkling as a crystal cup. He 
stooped, and drank a draught from 
its depth, and again proceeded on 
his way to the outskirts of the for- 


4i 


George o’ Green 

est where ran the road. When he 
came in sight of it, he saw, slowly 
coming toward him, two lean 
monks, whose habits were gray 
with dust of the highway. Their 
cheeks were sunken with fasting 
and their steps slow and uncertain. 

The man in green hid behind a 
tree and laughed softly, as he said: 

“ If any purse they have, ’t is 
empty ! The mendicant friars 
ne’er carry coin in their purse, nor 
victual in their paunch.” 

The monks dragged wearily out 
of sight, with slow and solemn gait. 
When they were well away he 
took to the road, and set off down 
Nottingham-way. He walked for 
a matter of two miles, when he 
came to a glebe, parcelled out 
to the country folk thereabout for 


42 


Bold Robin 


pasture. There he found, stretched 
out at full length, on a bank of 
thyme bordering the brook, a 
youth of great breadth and brawn, 
fast asleep, although it was now 
full day. As he approached, a 
lark rose high in spiral curve till 
it seemed lost in the ribbon-like 
clouds that streaked the blue sky, 
then trilled forth a song so sweet 
and joyous to greet the day, that the 
forester raised his cap in reverence. 

“Aha, bonny bird 1 Hast bor- 
rowed an angel’s song ? And yet 
that lout sleeps ! ” So saying he 
prodded the churl with the oaken 
staff till he grunted like one of the 
pigs that strayed near. 

“Sandy, thou varlet I ” the 
sleeper muttered drowsily, “ is’t ’ee 
again?” and he raised his great 


43 


George o’ Green 

bulk half up, supporting it on his 
elbow, as he rubbed his eyes free 
of sleep. 

“And who may Sandy be?” put 
in a blithe, laughing voice. 

“ Sandy is the canniest pig i’ all 
the country-side,” said the man 
fully rising. “ Ay, that pig, there ’s 
no lout i’ a’ the parish that ’s wiser 
than he be ! ” 

“ Hoot, toot, man!” quoth Robin 
Hood, — for the man in green with 
the laughing voice was he, — “ how 
canst thou make such speech ? 
Thou knowest me not.” 

The man, standing on his feet, 
towered over Robin Hood two or 
three inches, a very giant in girth 
and stature. His face betokened 
dulness and good nature. 

“Na-a, by the good Saint Dun- 


44 


Bold Robin 


stan, I know thee not,” he said, 
“but I know my pigs. There ’s 
the speckled pig, that’s the slyest 
beast o’ the lot ; and the red pig, 
— that ’s Sandy, — he has a coat like 
a borderman’s poll, so I calls him 
by that name, — he ’s uncommon 

wise ; and there ’s the black ” 

“That’ll do, man! Pigs are 
pigs till they be killed, then they 
be bacon. But tell me how a man 
o’ the brawn and bone o’ thee 
comes to be minding pigs ? Why, 
man, any bairn could do as much 1 ” 
The man muttered, “ They ’re 
none of mine. They be Goody 
Hoskins’s, an’ she gi’es me a six- 
pence, and a bed at night, and a 
bowl o’ porridge morn and eve, 
and an oat-cake at noontide for 
mindin’ ’em.” 


45 


George o’ Green 

“ So, thou ’rt a pig-minder when 
thou mightest be the greatest 
wrestler hereabout, or even carry a 
free-lance ! ” 

“Eh? Think’st thou so?” said 
the man stupidly. “ But I could n’t 
sleep between mindin’ as I can 
now. When the pigs stray too far 
afield Sandy cooms and grunts to 
warn me. Then I take my withe 
and beat ’em back to our part of 
the glebe.” 

“ Now, I doubt me if in all that 
brawn there lurk one ounce of 
strength,” muttered Robin. “How 
art thou called, Master Pig- 
minder ? ” 

“George o’ Green.” 

“ Why that ? ” 

“ Ho, ho, ho!” roared the churl. 

“ So wise and don’t know that 


46 


Bold Robin 


withal ! Why, I live on the green 
and mind the pigs!” And he 
wiped tears of laughter from his 
eyes on the sleeve of his fustian 
jacket. 

“I doubt me,” said Robin, “if 
thou canst play with the quarter 
staff.” 

“Ay, but I can!” said George 
quickly. 

“Show thy prowess then!” said 
Robin, with a quick thrust at him 
with his white-oak staff. 

“Bide here and mind the pigs 
till I go to yon thicket and get me 
a staff” 

Robin consented, and gazed after 
the brawny man as he walked with 
long strides to the oak thicket on 
the hither side of the brook. Then 
he carefully selected a tough green 


47 


George o’ Green 

sapling, almost two inches thick, 
and wrenched it off near the ground 
with a twist of his powerful hands. 

“This bodes me no good in 
the coming tilt,” thought Robin. 
Though he never withdrew for any 
cause, rarely had he suffered defeat. 

George turned him about, and, 
coming up to Robin, said : 

“Canst lend me that knife o’ 
thine ? ’T is o’er too frayed for a 
good staff,” he said, looking at the 
fringe of splinters where he had 
snapped off the stem. 

He trimmed the staff carefully, 
then handed the knife back to Robin. 
But chancing to look around, he 
saw the pigs scampering off to a 
distant corner of the common. 

“Thou ’st not minded the pigs I 
Now Goody Hoskins will rate me 


48 


Bold Robin 


well!” cried George, with heat, yet 
timidly withal. 

“ But Sandy did n’t give me 
warning 1 ” pleaded Robin. 

“ Good Sandy ! Faithful shoat ! 
He knows thee not. He ’ll talk 
only to me!” and George’s ill- 
nature left him at this proof of the 
faithfulness of his favorite. 

He set off at full speed after the 
pigs, Robin at his heels. When 
they had got the swine back to their 
own feeding ground they lay them- 
selves down on the short thymy 
turf to rest. The chase had been 
a merry one, and both were short 
of wind ; for the pigs had scamp- 
ered and dodged sprightfully in 
a way that made the men more 
weary than a five-mile sprint. 

George dozed off on the instant, 


49 


George o’ Green 

and Robin panted loud. In ten 
minutes Robin prodded George 
with his staff, and said : 

“ Sluggard ! Art ready ?” 
George yawned prodigiously, 
showing strong teeth, white as a 
young dog’s, rimming his jaws. 
Then he rose and ran his fingers 
through his shock of red hair, 
stretched mightily, and said briefly : 
“I be. Lay on I ” 

“Well, then,” cried Robin, 
“stand forth now and defend thy- 
self! I’ll warrant thou wilt be no 
longer drowsy when I shall have 
done with thee ! ” 

At once the sound of slashing of 
staves filled the air. As both were 
so deft in handling them, blows 
were skilfully parried. At the end 
of an hour Robin’s arm began to 


50 


Bold Robin 


tire, but George’s brawny arm was 
unfailing. In warding off a power- 
ful blow Robin’s arm swerved, and 
George’s staff came down on his 
crown with a sharp rap, the first 
hit made by either. For near two 
hours longer the clashing of staves 
kept up, when Robin’s foot slipped 
on the thyme, and down he rolled 
into the brook. 

George greeted his fall with 
hoarse guffaws, bending double 
and clinging to his staff to keep 
from falling, so tickled was he 
at Robin’s sorry plight. Robin 
climbed out of the brook, splutter- 
ing and gasping, and gave himself a 
mighty shake, which sent the water 
flying in a shower all about him. 

When George could speak for 
laughing he said : 



THE CLASHING OF STAVES KEPT UP 




5i 


George o’ Green 

“Rest thee here and let the sun 
dry ’ee a bit while I gather the 
pigs.” 

The beasts had again strayed, 
led by the treacherous Sandy, who 
like a bad boy took advantage of 
his master’s unheeding. 

George set off in a shambling 
run, and Robin threw himself down 
full length on the ground. Soon 
he came back with all his pigs, but 
Sandy was not in favor this time, 
and George took his oaken staff 
and laid it lustily over the pig’s 
back till he squealed loud and 
shrill. 

“Take that for thy pay, base 
varlet that thou art!” said George, 
as seriously as if the red pig were 
a naughty boy. “ Hast not eaten 
of my porridge, and shared my 


52 


Bold Robin 


oaten cake? I ’ll not favor thee 
next time !” 

For reply Sandy grunted “Ugh, 
ugh, ugh !” as he rubbed his smart- 
ing back against a low shrub. 

Glancing up at the sky, where 
hung the sun in the middle, George 
exclaimed: 

“The morn hath passed right 
merrily. It is noontide. Wilt 
share my oaten cake?” 

And he drew it from the pocket 
of his jerkin and broke it in two. 

“Right gladly,” said Robin, “for 
such a morning’s bout whetteth 
one’s appetite.” 

They sat down on the bank, and 
each munched his cake in silence, 
and washed it down by a draught 
of water from the brook out of a 
cup made of a dock-leaf. 


53 


George o’ Green 

“Hast had enough?” queried 
George of Robin, whose nether 
garments were still steaming in 
the sun’s heat. 

“Not I,” quoth Robin, “nor till 
one or t’ other hath proven the 
better man. I bethink me, George 
o’ Green, thou ’rt a better man 
than first I thought thee.” This 
last Robin said to himself. 

They set to again. This time 
both were in earnest, each eager 
to prove himself the victor, and 
the blows fell thick and fast on 
pates and shoulders. Many a hard 
rap George gave, and many a skil- 
ful blow Robin dealt ; for the ad- 
vantage George had in strength 
Robin made up in skill. 

The pigs were again forgot, and 
had long since routed Farmer 


54 


Bold Robin 


Arkell’s swine from their allotted 
corner of the glebe, and were enjoy- 
ing the forbidden ground as only 
pigs and vagrants could. 

The sun began to decline, and 
still the staves clashed, not so 
briskly and merrily, but warily and 
carefully. Each blow was studied. 
Five hours they had been at it 
since the nooning, and the gray 
light betokened but a few hours 
of day. 

Robin heaved a mighty sigh, for 
he was well-nigh spent, and rais- 
ing his hand to his head to dash 
off drops of sweat that were trick- 
ling into his eyes, his staff fell with 
a feeble blow against George’s, 
while the pig-minder’s came down 
on Robin’s head with a crash that 
laid him low and well-nigh brained 


55 


George o’ Green 

him. For a moment he lay stunned. 
George ran to the brook, and, gath- 
ering water into the bowl made 
of his two hands, dashed it into 
Robin’s face. 

Robin came to himself and rose 
up on his elbow. Said George to 
his fallen foe : 

“Hast had enough?” 

“ Look I not like a man that 
knows when he hath enough ? ” 
said Robin testily. Then rising 
to his feet, he took George by the 
hand, and said : 

“Thou ’rt the first to lay Robin 
Hood low.” 

George’s chin fell, and his eyes 
stuck out; for until that moment 
he had not known the name of his 
friendly foe. 

“I — I — knew thee not!” he 


56 


Bold Robin 


stammered, “or by St. Dunstan 
— ” he choked so he could say no 
more. 

“Nay, nay!” said Robin, good 
naturedly. “ Take it not so. 
Thou ’rt too good a man to mind 
pigs. Come ! Go with me to Sher- 
wood, and I ’ll give thee occupation 
worthy of thy brawn and bone.” 

“But Goody Hoskins — and 
the pigs — and Sandy — ” faltered 
George. 

“I ’ll have speech with the good 
dame, or my gold will speak for 
me,” thrusting his hand in his 
pocket. He drew it out empty, 
while a rueful look spread over his 
face. “Never mind, ’t will soon 
fill again. Wilt go with me if I can 
win thee from the good dame?” 

George trembled, and whimpered: 


57 


George o’ Green 

“The good dame, as thou call’st 
her, hath a bitter tongue. She ’ll 
rate thee up hill and down dale.” 

Robin laughed, then his lip 
curled with scorn. 

“ I ’ve ne’er seen matron or maid 
but I could win a smile from by 
soft words. Enough. Courage ! 
And let ’s set off to Goody Hos- 
kins’s cot.” 

They gathered the pigs and 
started, each man using his staff, 
that but now had played so merrily 
about the other’s crown, to keep 
the drove together. Betimes they 
reached the hovel ofGoody Hoskins. 
It was made of sticks and stones 
plastered together with mud, and 
the roof was of thatch, with a hole 
in the middle for the smoke to go 
out. The dame was busy, bending 


5 » 


Bold Robin 


over a little fire, stirring porridge 
with a long wooden ladle, for her 
supper. When the squeal of the 
pigs broke on her ear, she rose 
hastily, and a flush of anger spread 
over her face. She hobbled to 
the door, and cried out: 

“Thou lazy varlet ! Late again ! 
Only half a porringer shall be thy 
portion to-night!” 

Robin looked surprised at 
George, who stood the picture of 
fear, twisting his fingers and shuf- 
fling his feet, but saying not a 
word, and wondered if he could 
be the same man that had used 
his staff so lustily and valiantly 
against him. Now he seemed too 
much affrighted to speak. 

Robin advanced and took off his 
cap. Bowing low, he said: 




SHE SHOOK HER CROOKED FINGER IN GEORGE’S FACE 


Vfl i Tfr r v vm TTvTy i n * : 


59 


George o’ Green 

“Good mother, the blame rests 
with me. This man hath done me 
service that hath taken his time ; 
but had I known it should have 
been devoted to thee, believe me, 
naught would have made me ac- 
cept it. It hath ever been my de- 
light to yield to such as thee ! ” 

The old dame’s looks softened, 
and she made answer : 

“If he hath done aught for thee 
thou’rt right welcome; but ’t is 
little he does but eat and sleep 
and snore like one of his own 
pigs!” and she shook her crooked 
finger in George’s face till his knees 
knocked together with fright. 

“ Is not the fellow faithful in his 
minding?” 

“ No, no ; ayounker of ten could 
do better! ” 


6o 


Bold Robin 


“ Why not get rid of so worth- 
less a churl, then?” said Robin, 
bending a look of contempt on 
George. 

Stupid George looked surprised, 
and was about to protest when 
Robin gave him a glance that 
warned him to be silent and let 
him do the talking. 

“Farmer Arkell’s son Peter asked 
but to-day to mind my pigs along 
o’ his, and he wants no bed or por- 
ridge, only the sixpence.” 

“Then why not take him?” 

“Why, I ha’ na the sixpence that 
he must ha’, he saith, every se’n- 
night.” 

“ Those thou gavest George will 
do, I bethink me,” said Robin. 

“Oh,” broke in the guileless 
George, “I ha’ to gi’e ’em to 


George o’ Green 61 

Goody Hoskins to pay as fines to 
Farmer Arkell for letting my pigs 
stray into his part of the glebe. 
It’s a ha’penny every time.” 

Robin bent a shrewd look on 
the old dame and said : 

“ Ah, I see ! If I send thee five 
shillings will that do, good mother, 
to pay the lad ? I have it not 
about me now. But I ’ll send it 
thee.” 

“ Nor ever will ! ” snapped the 
old woman, suspicious at once. 

“ Good dame, didst ever hear 
of Robin Hood wronging any 
woman ? ” 

“ I never did. But thou ’rt not 
he. He goeth forth with three- 
score followers and his purse is 
always well lined!” said the old 
dame scornfully. 


62 


Bold Robin 


“ Thou believest me not ? I ’ll 
soon prove thee the truth ! ” and he 
drew from under his cloak a silver 
horn, on which he blew three short 
blasts. After a little while there 
was a crackling in the bushes at 
the right, and a splash in the brook, 
and a sound of rustling leaves, and 
lo ! — about him there stood a score 
of men dressed in Lincoln green, 
all that were within sound of his 
magic horn. They now thronged 
closely to his side. 

“What’s your will, good mas- 
ter?” asked one, a youth who, 
under his mantle of green, was 
clad in scarlet from top to toe. 

“Only that you tell yon dame 
who I am.” 

“Thou’rt Robin Hood!” “A 
free archer of Sherwood forest.” 


George o’ Green 63 

“And Captain of a lusty band of 
rangers,” came in chorus from the 
score of throats. 

The old dame curtesied low, and 
said, nothing abashed : 

“ I e’en believe thou art he ! 
Wilt share my porridge ? Yon lout 
can have none. His share shall 
fall to thee.” 

Robin laughed and thanked her, 
but declined her courtesy. 

“Hath one of you five shillings?” 

Twenty hands dived into twenty 
pockets, and all came out empty. 

Each man stared at the other 
with blank looks. 

“It’s not so great a matter. 
Easy come, easy go. To-morrow, 
good dame, I ’ll pay thee thy shil- 
lings, and Jock o’ Nimble-heels 
shall fetch them,” said Robin, 


6 4 


Bold Robin 


laying his hand on the shoulder 
of a stripling that stood near. 

“Meantime take this as earnest 
of my faith,” and he drew from his 
thumb a golden ring and pressed 
it in her palm. 

“ Now this lout may go with 
me ? ” pointing with his thumb 
over his shoulder at George, who 
had shrunk back at the rating 
tongue of the dame. 

“Yes, yes; but forget not my 
silver”; she said presistently. 

George bent to Robin’s ear and 
said, in a faltering whisper : 

“But I canna go wi’ thee. I 
canna leave Sandy.” 

“Sandy! Who might Sandy 
be?” asked Robin in surprise. 
“Ah ! ” — recollecting — “ yon red 
shoatl” and he placed his hands 


George o’ Green 65 

on his hips and laughed long and 
loud. “Thou shalt take thy pet 
along,” he said softly. “Leave it 
to me ! ” 

“But he ’s not mine i’ the law.” 

“Pooh, pooh, I ’ll make him 
thine 1” 

Turning to Dame Hoskins, he 
said : 

“Good dame, canst spare a pig 
for six good bottles of sack?” It 
seems to me ’t would taste right 
well, roasted whole.” 

A look of fear crossed George’s 
face, and he was about to object 
when Robin trod on his toe and 
made him cry out, thus turning 
his attention, and interrupting his 
speech. The dame seemed bent 
on haggling, but soon consented 
to the bargain, and asked: 

5 


66 


Bold Robin 


“Which wilt ’ee have?” 

“Oh, any one! The easiest 
caught ! ” said Robin, with a know- 
ing wink at George, who at once 
chased off after the whole drove, 
and soon came back with Sandy 
squealing and squirming under 
his arm. 

Robin’s men all grinned at their 
master’s cunning, and he himself 
hid the smile on his lips by strok- 
ing his whiskers. 

“To the forest, men! For the 
sun declines. The wood-dove even 
now sobs for his homing-mate, and 
the nightingale will soon sing from 
yonder copse.” 

They all set off smartly toward 
the forest, Robin and George, with 
Sandy under his arm, bringing up 
the rear. The men sang cheerily, 


George o’ Green 67 

accompanied by the squeals and 
grunts of Sandy ; 

“ Oh, give me my staff of whitest 
thorn ; 

Oh, give me my bow of yew ; 

Oh, give me the dun deer’s dap- 
pled side ; 

And my arrow staunch and true. 
Tirralee, tirrala, tirralee ! 

There be none so happy, none so 
free, 

As the men that live under the 
Greenwood tree.” 

When at last they reached the 
forest, the moon, cut clean in the 
middle like half a warden pie, lit 
up but faintly the forest paths ; but 
they made their way through them 
as readily as if the noontide sun 


68 


Bold Robin 


himself filtered through the laced 
boughs of beech and oak over their 
heads, making a tunnel of green- 
ery. The nightingale sang softly 
from its bower in a wild-rose bush, 
and from the top of an oak, near 
to the road, an owl suddenly called 
out its never-answered question, 
“Who, who ?” 

“Why, Robin Hood and his 
merry men,” gaily answered Jock 
o’ Nimble-heels. 

“Hey, youngster, bandy no words 
with yon bird of night, for he can 
blight thee with his spell ! ’T is 
best to be friends with his ilk,” 
said grim John o’ Groats. 

For a few moments there was 
silence. Twigs crackled under 
foot, and forest sounds that had 
been all unnoticed made them- 


George o’ Green 69 

selves heard : the falling of leaves 
the stir of sleeping birds, the crick- 
ets’ homely song, and the distant 
croak of frogs. A gleam of red 
flashed on their sight, and silence 
fled. 

“’T is good Friar Tuck and 
Little John roasting the deer,” said 
Will Scarlet. 

And each man gave a joyous 
shout. A few moments brought 
them to the Tristal Tree, and into 
the full glare of the huge fire where 
the two men were busily roasting 
a deer for their suppers. 

“ Is the buck roasted to a turn?” 
queried Robin. “Hunger, they 
say, is a good sauce ; and, by my 
troth, we bring our share to the 
feast this eve.” 

“Ay, ay; a minute’s patience, 


70 


Bold Robin 


and ’t is done,” said Friar Tuck as 
he blew his breath coolingly upon 
the back of his hand, which had been 
for a moment too near the fire. 

“ But whom have we here ? ” he 
asked in surprise, as George’s huge 
bulk was revealed in the leaping 
flame. 

“ ’T is George o’ Green, erstwhile 
a valiant pig-minder to as cross- 
grained an old dame as e’er stirred 
porridge.” And Robin roared again 
as he thought of George’s fear of 
Goody Hoskins, and the men joined 
in, when George gravely set down 
the grunting pig. 

All eyes were bent on him, and 
he bore their looks but ill, shuffling 
his feet and twisting his fingers, 
and keeping his bashful eyes turned 
toward the ground. 


7i 


George o’ Green 

“ Thou hast snared a brave baw- 
cock, good Robin,” sneered Little 
John. 

Robin made answer, “ ‘ He who 
hath a mind to beat a dog will 
easily find a stick.’ Wait till he 
hath supped and try him in a bout 
at wrestling, good Little John ! ” 

“That I will; and now, if thou 
sayest so ! ” 

“No; after,” said Robin, de- 
cisively. “ We are both nigh fam- 
ished — have only fed upon one 
oat-cake since morn.” 

At that moment Friar Tuck an- 
nounced the buck was done to a 
turn, and all fell to. After they 
had eaten excellently, and had 
rested at full length on the sward 
for a space, Robin said : 

“Now, good Little John, since 


7 2 


Bold Robin 


thou art so eager, just try yon 
younker in a wrestling bout.” 

“’T were a pity to bruise so 
much brawn!” laughed Littlejohn. 

The two men took position, and 
at the fall of an oaken twig set to. 
The fire leaped high, and the half 
moon added her misty light to the 
strange scene. The men writhed 
and twisted, this way and that, till 
their breath came in gasps like 
those of hunted stags. Then all of 
a sudden Little John came sprawl- 
ing at full length on the ground 
at Robin’s feet, flung clean over 
George’s shoulder. 

“ ’T were ne’er done before I ” 
panted Little John, ruefully. 

“We must all have our fall, 
’t would seem,” quoth Robin, with 
a wise smile. 


73 


George o’ Green 

After George had rested a little, 
Jock o’ Nimble-heels said to him : 
“ Well, good George o’ Green, 
canst leap yon hazel clump the 
widest part ?” 

This was Jock’s great feat, and 
at it he had ne’er been worsted. 
George only grinned, and nodded 
“ Yes.” 

Thereupon young Jock threw off 
his jerkin of leather, and running 
swiftly for four or five yards, cleared 
at a bound the thicket he had 
chosen ; but as he descended his 
feet scraped the other side. A 
cheer greeted him, while the men 
nodded to each other as if to say, 
“ He will ne’er beat that ! ” 

George rose, shook back his red 
hair, bent toward the ground, swung 
his long arms to and fro, and in 


74 


Bold Robin 


one tremendous bound his great 
bulk rose with the lightness of a 
bird, cleared the bush, and landed 
full four feet beyond. There was 
no cheer to greet him — only deep 
silence, for they were too surprised 
to speak. 

Robin called him to his side and 
asked : 

“Canst use the short cudgel?” 

“A little, good master,” answered 
George, modestly. 

“ Here, Friar Tuck, art thou will- 
ing to show this clown how handy 
thou art i’ the matter of short 
cudgels ? ” 

Friar Tuck threw back his cowl, 
slipped off his sandals, and, baring 
his brawny arm to the shoulder, 
cried “Come on!” as he brand- 
ished his cudgel — a club of white 


75 


George o’ Green 

thorn about three feet long and as 
thick as a man’s arm. 

“ Hast no cudgel, George?” asked 
Robin. “Well, go to yonder tree,” 
pointing to a little thorn growing 
near, “and pluck one.” 

The men all grinned, for they 
thought it but a pleasant jest of 
Robin’s. To their amaze the man 
walked to the tree, chose a branch, 
and broke it from the trunk as if 
’twere an ozier-twig. Friar Tuck 
threw down his cudgel. 

“I can fight fist to fist with man, 
but not with the devil,” quoth 
he. 

“ ’T is thy true work ! ” shouted 
the men together. They crowded 
round George, and grasped his 
hand heartily in congratulation. 

“Think you he ’s worthy to 


76 


Bold Robin 


belong to the merry men o’ Sher- 
wood?” asked Robin. 

“Ay, ay,” came a chorus of 
answers. 

“And, my men, there be some- 
thing more. He hath this day 
beaten me and my good oak staff 
in a bout lasting from morn till 
nigh set of sun ; but was himself 
worsted by the clattering, unruly 
tongue in a woman’s head.” 

A shout of laughter greeted this, 
and jests flew from mouth to mouth. 

“Henceforth,” said Robin, “let 
it be said when one excels in any- 
thing, ‘ Thou ’rt as good as George 
o’ Green’; for he hath beaten each 
of us in what he does most excel.” 

And so it is to this day the pro- 
verb stands. 


(Originally appeared in St. Nicholas.) 


ROUND ROBIN HOOD’S 
BARN. 


77 



ROUND ROBIN HOOD’S 
BARN. 

AT the low thatched deer barn 
there was great to-do among 
the half-score of foresters. Even 
the Sheriff from Nottingham was 
there, with as motley a crew of gap- 
ing yokels as e’er gathered in the 
shadow of Sherwood. A crest- 
fallen crew were those same fores- 
ters ! They stared like stuck pigs. 
And well they might ! For the 
night before the barn had sheltered 
half a score of sleek red deer which 
had been shut up to furnish sport 
for the King, that they might not 
be killed in the forest by that sly 
rogue, Robin Hood, under the very 

79 


8o 


Bold Robin 


nose of the game - keepers. Be- 
hold, three prime bucks had been 
spirited away somehow during 
the night, though every man-jack 
left there on guard swore he had 
ne’er a wink of sleep. 

“A pox upon the sly thief!” 
roared the Sheriff, so red of face 
that a turkey’s wattle turned pale 
beside it. So burly of form was 
he that when he was minded to 
walk he planted one foot on the 
ground, and rolled on it like a 
pivot till he could set the other 
down. Well for the game-keepers 
such was his way of walking, for the 
nimble yokels could leap out of his 
way, as he laid about him with his 
quarter staff, ere he could set one 
foot before the other. 

“Dolts I churls ! dumblings ! ” 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 81 

he roared, as loud as his fat throat 
would let him, for at all times his 
voice came forth somewhat muf- 
fled because of the good sack he 
had drunk. His lips spattered 
spittle, his veins stood like cords 
on his forehead, his green eyes, 
from their swaddlings of fat, flashed 
fire. 

“ The King comes on the mor- 
row at the break o’ day ! The 
trouble I was put to, to save this 
many bucks from that villain — that 
cut-throat — Robin ! ’T was all but 
the death o’ me ! ” and truly he 
looked as if it might be at any 
moment. “ When the King comes 
he ’ll think nothing o’ hanging 
to yon stout oak the varlets who 
dared let his deer be stolen. The 
pick o’ the herd ! To let them go 


82 


Bold Robin 


from under your very noses ! 
Dolts ! Villains ! ” 

The Sheriff choked till his eyes 
goggled and no more words would 
come from his mouthing lips. 

As the news flew abroad the 
company grew. From hither and 
yon came yokels ; down the broad 
highway, through by-path, from 
the forest itself. 

A cool, sweet wind murmured 
in the leaves of the oak trees, and 
drops of dew fell from their pointed 
ends like tears, as if they too were 
grieving for the King’s loss. Great 
shafts of sunlight spread far from 
the rim of the earth, like golden 
sticks of my lady’s fan, as the sun 
peeped out as if to see what all 
this turmoil meant. The mists, 
woolly as sheep in the fold, were 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 83 

lifting from the great meadows 
around the barn. 

The rustics, who now numbered 
a score, stared with hanging lip 
and bulging eye at the great rage 
of the Sheriff, yet mightily diverted 
withal, at the show my Lord 
Sheriff was making of himself. 
’T was as good as a mumming ! 
Not a little tickled were they at 
the bold audacity of their secret 
hero in this his last merry prank. 

“Who knows? Who e’er can 
lead to the place where the rogue 
hides himself, him will I give a 
piece of gold,” casting such fierce 
looks about that each rustic tried 
to hide behind the other, and none 
made bold to answer. This set 
my Lord Sheriff a-raving again. 
The yokels listened respectfully, 


8 4 


Bold Robin 


till his breath gave out, and left 
him as purple as a plum. 

“Is there none in all this pack 
who ’ll lead on, I say?” he 
screeched, thinking to rest his 
voice on higher notes. He stamped 
with his gouty foot, ended in a 
groan, and all but fell down had 
not two keepers given him a 
boosting. 

When he was righted, from out 
the crowd slouched a simpering 
bumpkin, clad in a greasy leather 
jerkin, tight and scant; and 
breeches of calf-skin with the red 
hair on. His hat set down quite 
on his ears, and from under it his 
hair hung down in tags to his 
shoulders ; his mouth drooled like 
a suckling’s, his lip dangled, red 
like an over-ripe plum. He was so 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 85 

witless that he knew not how to 
remove his hat in the presence of 
the mighty Sheriff. 

“ I, my lord,” said the dunce, 
speaking in a weak, unmanlike 
voice, shifting from one foot to the 
other, “ I can lead you to the 
rogue, Robin !” 

The crowd tittered and fell to 
nudging each other. 

“None but an innocent dared 
do it ! ” whispered one. 

“Sure he’s a looney!” said 
another. 

“ He ’d lead a merry chase ! ” 
breathed a third. 

“You!” screamed the Sheriff, 
glaring atthe unlucky wight. “ I ’d 
think you could scarce lead to a 
sheep-fold, to say naught of that 
fox’s den !” 


86 


Bold Robin 


At this a great laugh rose from 
the crowd, well befitting the jest 
of so mighty a man. But it did 
not confuse the dolt, who tittered 
foolishly, too. He stepped out a 
little farther from the crowd and 
his bowed legs and turned-in toes 
called forth guffaws and open 
jests. 

Sure he had spent his days 
a sheep-shearing or he never would 
have bowed his legs like that ! 
The Sheriff’s jest was all the 
sharper wit. Nothing daunted the 
fellow insisted : 

“ I did see him, my lord, in the 
false dawn o’ day when I came 
through the forest! ” 

“ Where-about, fellow ? ” 

“ Over Melton-way ! ” 

“ ’ T is a good half-score of miles 



“I DID SEE HIM, MY LORD” 






Round Robin Hood’s Barn 87 

from here” said the Sheriff mus- 
ingly. “ What did you there ? ” 

“ Nothing,” answered the fellow 
so simply that the crowd fell a- 
laughing again, as a crowd does 
when the rage of a mighty man is 
shifted on one poor wight. 

“ Canst not uncover before me, 
sirrah?” cried the Sheriff angrily, 
noticing the dolt’s ill-manners for 
the first time, and making this an 
excuse for fresh wrath. 

“Yes, my lord,” replied the 
simpleton, and forthwith un- 
buttoned his jerkin, threw it off, 
and began fumbling with the 
strings of his breeches, before 
the Sheriff could speak from 
surprise. 

“ Hold, hold ! fellow,” he or- 
dered. 


88 


Bold Robin 


The fellow paused with a waiting 
look, smiling foolishly. 

“You say you saw Robin Hood 
early this morning?” 

“Yes, my lord,” answered the 
simpleton, twisting the strings. 

“ Where did you see him ? ” 

“As I said — over Melton-way.” 

“ How came you there ? ” 

“ I came to see the King hunt 
deer.” 

“ I mean — ” fumed the Sheriff — 
“ Was there ever such a fool ! ” 

“ No, my lord, ’less it be my 
brother Basil. He ’s said by wise 
ones to have even less brains than 
me.” 

“ Hoots, man 1 I mean not the 
matter of brains ; ’t is too plain 
you have no wits about you!” 
Another laugh came from the 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 89 

crowd at which the fool smiled 
broadly. 

“ I meant, dumbling, Why did 
you come that way ?” 

“ I could come no other way, my 
lord, and get there.” 

“He ’s a zany,” muttered my 
Lord Sheriff. 

“He may be a bold rogue I” 
whispered the head game-keeper. 

“Set a fool to catch a fool, if 
you please !” cried the Sheriff, tes- 
tily, who relished not being contra- 
dicted. “ He ’s a fool, I say. And 
children and his like speak the 
truth! I ’ve a mind to trust 
him ! ” 

The keeper replied not ; for had 
not the Lord Sheriff spoken ? 

“Sirrah! So you think you 
can take me — me — the Sheriff of 


90 


Bold Robin 


Nottingham, to Robin Hood? 
’T will be worth a good handful 
o’ groats to you.” He had said 
gold before, but why waste good 
gold on such a dolt ? 

The lout opened his eyes wider, 
and clucked his tongue with satis- 
faction : “Yes, yes ! If you ’ll go 
as I came. I ’ve ne’er crossed 
Sherwood before.” 

“ T is enough. But hold 1 De- 
scribe the place wherein you saw 
the bold outlaw, so we may know 
it when we come to it, lest your 
memory fail when put to the test. 
Who art you?” 

“ I ’m Will, the zany ” 

“Thy sponsors were wise. Well 
named are thou,” muttered the 
Sheriff. 

“ It were under an oak,” went 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 91 

on the fool, “a huge one, and 
round were many rangers clad all 
in green. Ah, ’t were a pretty 

habit! would I had one ” and 

he tied the strings of his breeches 
and pulled on his jerkin. “A beck 
ran nigh, and some were washing 
bloody hands in ’t, others dried 
theirs on the grass, and ” 

“ That ’s he!” cried the Sheriff, 
slapping his thigh. “To horse, 
men, to horse !” 

“Nay ! but a horse can’t go 
where he was !” objected the lout. 
“It takes a foot, and a nimble one 
too, like mine, to crowd through 
the copses where Robin best likes 
to hide.” 

The crowd laughed loud, for his 
feet toed in like a pigeon’s, so that 
he fairly trod upon his own toes. 


9 2 


Bold Robin 


“Lead on I” ordered the Sheriff. 
To himself he said, “’T will be the 
death of me, I doubt not, but I 
must do it to make peace with the 
King,” and he almost groaned. 

The Sheriff set off smartly after 
Will, the zany, and the game- 
keepers looked amazed, he rolled 
like a cask and puffed like a bel- 
lows. The humbler folk fell in 
behind. 

The fool led them straight to 
that part of the forest on the north. 
As they went deeper into it the 
sweet odors let free at sunrise rose 
all about them; the dews sprinkled 
upon them like an April shower. 
The birds flew away to find deeper 
copses. Presently they left the 
trodden road for a dim path which 
the fool trod unfalteringly. For as 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 93 

awkward and ridiculous a crea- 
ture as he was he got over the 
ground amazingly. The Sheriff 
had got his second wind and fol- 
lowed sturdily after, smartly lashed 
by twigs on the face, and on his 
huge calves. The crowd trailed 
after in a long file. Now and then 
one dropped out till at last barely 
a dozen remained. All at once they 
heard the sound of water above the 
rustle of leaves, while they were 
scrambling through a dense copse 
after the simple Will. Soon they 
came to a brook, deep and wide. 
There was no getting over save by 
a slim tree fallen across the stream. 
Will mounted it and passed over 
so swiftly his feet seemed to re- 
volve like wheels. He called from 
the other end: “Be you afraid?” 


94 


Bold Robin 


“Afraid? Me afraid?” the Sheriff 
cried, “Go to, fool! I ’ll follow.” 

The fool leaped from the log and 
in an instant the Sheriff and his 
followers had mounted it — when, 
Crack! it broke square in the middle. 
Splash! They all tumbled into 
the water. What a to-do there 
was, swearing and spitting, floun- 
dering and grunting in the cold 
deep water. Will made haste to 
help the Sheriff out. 

“ ’ T were best to turn back, 
mayhap,” he said looking at the 
dripping crew. 

“ Thou ’rt not here, fool, to give 
orders ! Go on ! ” bellowed the 
Sheriff. 

The wet, dripping garments of 
the Sheriff fitted over each roll of 
fat like skin, and made him look 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 95 

vastly ridiculous. The rest fared 
no better, and their bones stuck 
out in points all over them. Not 
a dry thread was there in the whole 
company but on the zany. He 
seemed to tread lighter and faster 
with every step, and the crowd had 
much ado to keep him in sight 
with the Sheriff lurching between. 
They panted and puffed, and the 
Sheriff was well-nigh dead. 

At last, after an hour more of 
this brisk pace, through bogs and 
briars, into long dales that ended 
in copses so thick a hare could 
scarce push through, when the 
Sheriff’s fine red coat was torn to 
ribbons, his great buskins burst — a 
sorry sight was he — with a few 
valiant followers at his heels, he 
panted out : 


Bold Robin 


“ How much further, rogue?” 

“ ’ Tis not above a half a mile 
to the place I saw him at peep o’ 
day ! ” He pattered on as if the 
Sheriff’s question had put new life 
in him. That worthy fell further 
and further behind, till Will could 
not tell where he was save by 
the waving and crackling of the 
bushes. 

“ Hold, there, fellow ! ” cried 
the Sheriff, “Where are we?” 

As he called he stepped from 
the thick bushes and there before 
him lay a little glade with one lone 
oak tree of great girth and long 
trunk, with no limbs but at the 
very top like a huge tassel, stand- 
ing in the midst. Will the zany 
stood under the tree with mouth 
agape, eyes turned upward, truly a 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 97 

ridiculous object. As the Sheriff 
came to his side he pointed one 
finger to the top of the tree, and 
said : 

“Yon ’s him!” 

Every head fell back on every 
pair of shoulders, every eye strained 
upward. And sure enough ! there 
in the very top was a man grinning 
till his teeth showed, a glittering 
row. He put his finger to his 
nose and wiggled it derisively. 

“String your bows! Out with 
your arrows ! Shoot the villain ! 
Shoot! Shoot!” 

Then it was discovered that there 
was not a long-bow, nor a cross- 
bow, not as much as a sling in 
the whole company. The Sheriff 
stamped and swore. The rest 
stared upward till they well-nigh 


9 8 


Bold Robin 


cracked their necks, but none could 
touch the rogue though they flung 
sticks and stones at him, and for 
their pains were jeered at. 

“ We must back home again and 
call out the archers ! ” cried the 
Sheriff, when he could talk, such a 
rage was he in. He looked around 
for the fool and saw him some dis- 
tance away, plodding off alone at an 
easy pace, as if he’d started on a 
set journey. “ Ho, varlet, come 
back ! ” yelled the Sheriff. The 
zany did not quicken his speed, 
nor did he return. 

“ Hasten and fetch the fool back,” 
he ordered the game-keeper testily. 
The man obeyed and soon returned 
leading simple Will back by the 
arm. 

“ Fellow, what do you mean by 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn 99 

leaving us here when we know not 
how to get home again?” 

“You said naught to me about 
that. And I was but setting off 
home to Medford, since the King 
hunts not in Sherwood to-day !” re- 
plied Will innocently. 

“ Your handful of groats, fellow ! 
Have you forgot them ? ” asked the 
Sheriff in a wheedling tone. 

A pleased grin widened the fool’s 
mouth, and with no more ado he 
turned and lead them homeward, 
but not by the same path on which 
they had come. They walked on 
and on. The sun mounted higher 
and higher, and the Sheriff, long 
since dried of the brook water, was 
like to drown in his own sweat. 
They were in a deep wood and the 
Sheriff and his crew knew not at 
L.rfC. 


IOO 


Bold Robin 


all where they were. At last they 
came to a meadow, and before them 
lay a long, low, thatched barn that 
looked like one they had seen be- 
fore. The Sheriff rubbed his eyes 
and blinked. And looked again. 

Yes; ’t is monstrous like, but 
where are the wide doors and 
w'here ’s the ” 

“My Lord Sheriff,” whispered 
the head game-keeper: “’Tis 

back of the King ’s own barn, and the 
fellow ’s lead us round, and round 
it ! Now I mind me of that brook, 
’tis not above a mile to the south. 
And that oak stands two more to 
the east ; and that copse is two 
miles to the west, — ” swinging his 
arm about as he spoke. “ It ’s not 
well to trust a fool ! ” The Sheriff 
did but frown and followed Will 


Round Robin Hood’s Barn ioi 

to the front of the barn. And 
behold, the rest of the deer were 
gone ! 

The zany gaped with the rest and 
while they were searching the barn, 
in high dudgeon, he edged further 
and further away from it. The 
Sheriff and his men looked in and 
out, in every crack and crevice as if 
they expected to find red deer in 
rat-holes. On a sudden they were 
startled by the blast of a horn and 
and they ran outdoors shouting : 
“ The King ! the King ! ” 

They could scarce believe their 
eyes ; for there stood the zany in 
the midst of a company of archers 
dressed all in green, with bows 
drawn, and arrow on the string. 
His simple look was gone, and a 
wicked smile was on his erstwhile 


102 


Bold Robin 


slavering lips. He swept his hat 
from his head and bowed low to 
the Sheriff, and said derisively : 
“ My Lord Sheriff, tell the King if 
he would hunt to-day Robin and his 
merry men will gladly lead him to 
where there’s half a score of prime 
red deer 1 ” 

While the Sheriff and his men 
stared stupidly the archers flashed 
into the forest. Their loud laugh- 
ter woke the Sheriff from his stupor. 
Then, mayhap, there was ramping 
and roaring, in the midst of which 
the King and his retinue rode up, 
dusty and weary; though late, eager 
for the chase. From that day such 
a bootless quest is called “ Round 
Robin Hood ’s Barn ! ” 


THE DOUGHTY PAGE 



THE DOUGHTY PAGE 

IN the early morning hours when 
1 the first streakings of pink 
flushed the sky, under a low-grow- 
ing oak, which spread like a canopy 
of emerald above him, sat a youth, 
richly bedight in the finery of the 
court. He was in tears ; yes, the 
tears poured down his fair plump 
face, between his bright locks, till it 
seemed a sun-shower of April had 
let loose among golden shafts of 
sunlight. Suddenly he checked his 
tears, and called angrily to a small 
white palfrey grazing near by. 

“Jock I Jock ! thou frisky rogue ! 
Come hither I say ! ” 


105 


106 Bold Robin 

He stamped his booted foot till 
the golden spur tinkled merrily. 
The palfrey was richly caparisoned 
with trappings of white and gold 
and blue, and one corner of the sad- 
dle-cloth was trailing a rich shower 
of gold fringe in the dust. The 
animal stopped nipping daintily 
at the dew-crisped grass, snorted, 
cocked a wicked eye, wheeled 
swiftly, flinging up a pair of con- 
temptuous heels almost in the lad’s 
face, and made off to a brook which 
gurgled down from a wild glen, a 
good bow-shot from the king’s high- 
way. Now there were not only 
tears, but sobs shook the lad. But 
this time in such hot anger the tears 
almost dried on his flaming cheeks 
before they beaded. He stamped. 
He stamped again his dainty foot 


The Doughty Page 107 

all dight with silken hose and 
busked with velvet. So blinded 
was he with rage and the water in 
his eyes, he did not see far up the 
glen a man leaping with a long 
leaping-pole from side to side of 
the crystal rill, wherever foothold 
was best ; if none offered he took to 
the stones mid-stream. Small won- 
der the lad did not see him, for, like 
the bushes, he was clad in green 
from top to toe, and in the dim light 
of the glen could hardly be told 
from them. On he came fleetly, 
stepping surely, leaping agilely till 
he came up to the palfrey, now 
swilling loudly the cold fair water 
of the brook. 

The beast’s quick ear heard him, 
and he raised a knowing eye to the 
man, letting green-tinged gouts of 


io8 


Bold Robin 


water slip from his greedy mouth. 
Suddenly he reared on his hind- 
legs, swiftly circled and dropped to 
his fore-legs and cast backward in 
contempt his naughty heels. With 
a snort and a bound and a saucy 
shake of his long white brush, he 
bounded down the glade and was 
soon lost to view. 

“What a pretty, tricksy toy yon 
was ! ” said the man as he stared 
after the beast. “ I should say, but 
for its housings, it was the pet of 
some spoiled little maid!” 

He rose high on his leaping-pole, 
soaring like a bird, and landed out 
on the greensward beside the youth. 
He gazed in ridiculous amazement. 

“Hath the court moved to Sher- 
wood, then ? ” he asked, with a great 
laugh, “that we have such dainty 


The Doughty Page 109 

pages as this under the greenwood 
tree. Sure ’t is the appendage of 
some fine lady!” 

“Cease thy japing!” cried the 
youth, angrily, “and do thou fetch 
my steed, right speedily, too, or 
I ’ll e’en give thee a sound drub- 
bing with the flat o’ my sword ! ” 

The man swallowed his laugh in 
wonder. “Was there ever such a 
bantam cock o’ the walk,” he said 
to himself, then burst into so loud 
a peal that a vixen and her cubs 
were stirred to flight and ran bark- 
ing up the glen. 

“Ho, ho, ha, ha! This puny 
stripling to threaten me!” he bent 
double and lost his breath for a 
space. “ Well, lay on and I fain 
will endure all thou canst give me 
with that flimsy wand ! ” 


no 


Bold Robin 


The youth darted furiously at 
the forester and screamed shrilly : 
“Who art thou? who dares thus 
to address one of the good queen’s 
pages?” He laid about him furi- 
ously with the jewelled sword he 
carried. The man bounded out of 
his way so quickly that a doe’s 
flight were slow compared to it, so 
that every time the page made a 
pass at him the blade whistled 
merrily to the empty air, though 
the youth used both little hands in 
the delivery. The lad was soon 
winded, and laid a hand on his 
panting breast and gasped out : 
“Well, sir, I dare say thou ’rt 
either the devil or Robin Hood ! ” 

“Why think’st that?” asked the 
forester in surprise. 

“Because, no one — certes, no 


The Doughty Page hi 

man could stand out against such 
valiant blows as mine! ” blustered 
the youth. 

The forester roared again, and 
bent double with laughter. “ Hear 
the bold imp ! Ha, ha ! — such blows 
— Ho, ho, ho ! — ’T will be the 
death of me ! ” he rocked with the 
fun of it. 

The page looked at him with 
large serious eyes like twin wood- 
violets that strewed the ground 
nearby, wondering if the man were 
gone mad from fright. The sight 
of the forester’s twinkling eye set 
him right as to that. His tears 
were dry and he said haughtily : 
“ Rude churl ! No, thou ’rt not 
like Robin Hood, for he was ever 
a gentleman. I ’d know him in a 
thousand disguises. Would he 


1 12 


Bold Robin 


were here to befriend me. Right 
well, I know he ’d do it!” and he 
looked down as pensive as a maid. 

“What is there bold Robin can 
do that I can’t, to serve thee ? ” 

“What is ’t thou canst do but 
laugh like a very zany ! ” he re- 
plied scornfully. 

“ But tell me, and I ’ll do my 
sorry best, good page ! ” said the 
forester with mock humility and 
twinkling eyes, ’t was such a dainty, 
doughty mannikin. 

“ Well, then, since other help is 
not at hand, I must make use of 
such as is, poor though it be ! — 
Fetch me my horse!” he ordered 
haughtily. 

The forester bowed low to hide 
a widespread grin, and followed the 
way the palfrey took and soon re- 


The Doughty Page 113 

turned leading a meek and humble 
beastie. 

“ ’Tis well ! — I thank thee ! ” said 
the page loftily. 

He attempted to vault into the 
saddle, fell short, and would have 
sprawled on the ground had not 
the forester picked him up like a 
bundle, and set him astride. 

“ What next, good page ? ” 
meekly asked the forester, who 
could scarce conceal a smile behind 
his heavy beard. 

“ Lead me, then, to the haunt of 
Robin Hood, nigh to the Tristal 
Tree, and right speedily; for I’m 
nigh spent with the long journey ! ” 

“ W-h-a-a-a-t ?” stammered the 
forester. 

“ Dumbling ! Do as thou ’rt bid ! 
Lead the way, I say ! ” 


Bold Robin 


114 

Quite humbly the man laid hold 
on the bridle of white leather and 
started off. He took the path 
through a little vale where wild 
strawberries were as thickly set as 
rubies on a coronal ; then through 
a bristling copse where the boughs 
laced together and a way had to be 
opened by his stout hand. Then 
came a winding track which passed 
through brakes and ferns so tall 
they brushed the knees of the 
doughty page. They came out un- 
der low-boughed oaks, then by 
verdant ovals where surely fairies 
nightly danced. And lastly he 
paused at the brink of a fair stream. 
He drew from under his shabby 
green cloak, tattered by briars, 
stained by rain till its freshness 
was quite gone — a silver horn — 


The Doughty Page 115 

winding a lively hunter’s call on it. 
Lo ! out from behind every bush 
and tree sprang a man in green, 
and quickly bent the knee. 

One great creature — who seemed 
a very giant to the page — said re- 
spectfully : “ What is thy will, good 
Robin?” 

“Thou, Stephen o’ the Sturdy 
Arms,” commanded the ranger, “lift 
across the stream this great youth. 
Beware that he gets not a ducking ! ” 

Without more ado Stephen of 
the Sturdy Arms, who had once 
been a smith, took up the pony, 
lad and all, and set them safely on 
the other side. Robin followed, 
vaulting lightly over with his leap- 
ing-pole. 

The page was aghast at all he 
saw and heard, as well he might 


Bold Robin 


1 16 

be; but soon recovering he said 
boldly: 

“So thou ’rt Robin Hood? And 
I knew thee not! ’T is passing 
strange ! ’T is the beard, I bethink 
me, else I surely would have known 
thee!” 

“’T is not so strange! Since 
thou ’st not set eyes on me before,” 
laughed Robin. 

“Can it be that Robin Hood — 
But let be ! let be ! ” said the lad to 
himself and laughed right roguishly, 
which surprised Robin ; for the 
youth had wept and wailed and 
scolded like a very shrew, but ne’er 
had smiled till now. It was a very 
pretty smile, and Robin stared at 
the change it made upon the lad’s 
countenance. Little pearly teeth 
flashed, and little dimples winked 


The Doughty Page n 7 

in and out, too pretty by far to be 
wasted on a lad. Robin felt toward 
the page that he were a toy or play- 
thing for a sportive hour, so slight 
his lithe figure, so dainty his garb, 
so gay his trappings. 

They set off again and he called 
for his men to follow. He ordered 
three slender youths to wind the 
horn blithely so Friar Tuck might 
know that visitors approached. 
Robin himself kept a hand on the 
bridle of the palfrey, and behind 
streamed a long line of men in 
green. It was a merry company. 
As they neared the Tristal Tree, 
the savory odors of roasting buck 
and mulled ale assailed their noses. 
On their approach good Friar Tuck 
bent low and said apologetically : 

“I’d not looked for thee this two 


ii8 Bold Robin 

hours yet, good Robin, the buck ’s 
scarce singed as yet.” 

“No matter, good Friar. I doubt 
not this youth hath much to say to 
me that will make the hours fly! ” 
quoth Robin gravely. Standing 
behind the page, he smiled roguishly 
at the others above the lad’s head, 
which scarce reached as high as his 
shoulder. 

So slight and elegant a thing the 
page seemed to the rude foresters, 
they could scarce keep eyes off him, 
and turned scarlet as they beheld 
him so proudly indifferent to their 
boorish gaze. Something in the 
look of the lad made them humble 
and awkward. They felt as if ’t were 
wrong thus to gape at him, and 
one by one they slipped away, leav- 
ing him alone with Robin. 


The Doughty Page 1x9 

“ Thou ’st not told me yet, what 
brought thee hither,” inquired 
Robin, in such soft, silky tones 
that the old friar pricked up his 
ears at the sound. Seeing him, 
Robin reddened, and said to the 
lad : 

“ It were perhaps pleasanter to 
relate it in the deep shade of yon- 
der coppice, for the sun waxes hot. 
Wilt follow?” and he led the way, 
attended closely by the page. 

Friar Tuck set his fat hands on 
his hips, threw his head back so far 
that his great paunch raised his 
robe till his bare, splay feet, and a 
goodly bit of his thick ankle showed, 
and he laughed till he shook, and 
the tears rolled down his round 
cheeks, but not a sound made he. 
Then he cried thickly to himself: 


120 


Bold Robin 


“Verily, ’t is the way of a man 
with a maid ! What ’s about yon 
stripling that makes them all so 
soft or shy?” 

And he wiped his watery eyes 
on the corner of his serge sleeve. 
When Robin reached a spot to his 
liking, where the grass was soft 
and thick and fine as green velvet, 
and a deep shade shielded them 
from the nooning sun, he threw 
down his green cloak, then blushed 
at the act, and explained it by 
saying : 

“’T is well to save thy finery; 
thou ’It get no more in the forest. 
’T were a pity, for it well be- 
comes thee — Tush ! tush ! ” he cried 
vexedly — “What said I? for men 
the green garb of the forest ranger 
is good enough !” 


The Doughty Page 121 

“And ’t is the garb I seek to 
don, good Robin. I came from 
Nottingham where the court now 
lies for that purpose. Last night 
I laid the trappings on Jock my- 
self, and set out at midnight to find 
thy trysting place. Dark and dan- 
gerous as it was, I faltered not. 
Dost not prove me of good mettle 
for a ranger?” He paused as if to 
let Robin feel fully how high was 
his courage. 

Robin remembered his bounte- 
ous tears and half smiled, then 
coughed ; ’t was such a techy, 
amusing whiffet ! 

“Yes, I was spent and weary 
when Jock — mean wretch — know- 
ing well my plight, pitched me over 
his head and would not be caught 
again. He, too, was hungry, and 


122 


Bold Robin 


his food was at hand, but I — ” and 
the youth sighed emptily. 

“ Hast had no bite nor sup since 
yester eve?” quired Robin solici- 
tously. “ I ’ll go and hurry up the 
roasting.” 

“No, no ! ” said the page, laying 
a small white hand, bedecked with 
rings, on Robin’s arm to stay him. 
“Wait till I tell thee what brought 
me hither — I ’d fain be numbered 
with thy merry men.” 

“I feared as much I” muttered 
Robin into his beard. “What can 
I say — how refuse so ’s not to hurt 
the pride of this tender lad — as out 
of place here in this life as any 
girl ! ” Then aloud he asked : “ But 
what canst thou do? The life of 
Sherwood is hard and rough for 
the stoutest — thou mightst be cel- 


The Doughty Page 123 

larer for Friar Tuck — ” he finished 
musingly. 

“Never! I’d scorn such a task!” 
cried the lad hotly. 

Robin gasped, astonished. “Thou 
’It not ? ” 

“ Not I ! — I can leap with the 
vaulting pole like — well — like you ! 
And, I can send an arrow swift and 
true into the very centre of the 
bull’s-eye at ten paces, and I can — ” 

“ Perhaps you can kill a deer with 
a single shaft and skin off its hide ! ” 
gibed Robin. 

The page paled. “ No, not yet, 
but,” bravely — “ I ’ll e’en do it, all 
in good time, give me but the 
chance ! ” 

“ So thou ’rt determined to bide 
in the forest, along with me ? ” 

“Yes!” 


124 


Bold Robin 


“ But suppose we do not accept 
the doughty page?” 

“ But you will — say you will — 
dear Robin Good-fellow ! ” whee- 
dled the page like the veriest maid. 

“Well, I ’ll put it to the com- 
pany,” said Robin, at his wit’s end 
for denial. “But, rest here while 
I urge on the noontide meal.” 

Robin left him, and the page, 
spent with weariness, sank back on 
the soft grass, gazed blinkingly at 
the blue cap above him, yawned 
once or twice, then, with a limp 
settling of his body, slept ! 

Robin, coming to call him an 
hour later, stole away to the others, 
with finger on lip, and one by one 
they came and peeped at him sleep- 
ing. His bright hair lay scattered 
on the grass and looked only the 



ONE BY ONE THEY CAME AND PEEPED AT HIM SLEEPING 



The Doughty Page 125 

goldener; his lips pouted, red and 
warm ; his cheek was pink and 
round as a girl’s, with no hint of 
down, as yet, upon it; dainty of 
limb and garb, from his plumed hat 
lying on the grass to the velvet 
buskins on his little feet ; they gazed 
at him with hearts swelling with 
tenderness at his gentle, helpless 
look in slumber. 

“What say you, lads, shall we 
make him one of us for his very 
beauty and grace ? He hath a right 
brave spirit, too ! ” said Robin, as a 
smile spread over his face. 

“ Aye, aye ! ” came in low, rough 
tones from all. 

It was wondrous how soon Sir 
Doughty Page, — as they one and 
all dubbed him, — ruled the whole 
crew of Robin’s men. There was 


126 


Bold Robin 


a winning petulance, a charming 
wilfulness about him they could 
not gainsay. They would plead 
with him not to join their rougher 
sports, or go on their long maraud- 
ings ; nothing but Robin’s stern 
command would control him ; and 
then if the tears came, as they not 
often did, Robin himself would 
relent. 

Because of his gentle up-bring- 
ing, they had built for him a little 
hut of bark and long grass apart in 
the thicket, but within call ; for all 
felt the tender lad must be pro- 
tected, but none dare say it to Sir 
Page for fear of some reckless act 
resulting, to prove how vain were 
their fears. They had secretly 
fashioned his arrows slimmer, and 
made his bow less stiff, and his 


The Doughty Page 127 

vaulting-pole longer so that he 
might not fail at any. And they 
all took pride in his feats of 
strength. Even Stephen of the 
Sturdy Arm let himself be tripped, 
and laughed even louder than the 
rest at Sir Page’s vaunting and 
strutting. Jock o’ Nimble Heels 
let himself be outrun. And even 
Robin, himself, missed the rose- 
decked wand, that Sir Doughty 
Page might carry off the wreath 
on his arrow tipped with the 
whitest of swan feathers. 

The weeks flew in these sylvan 
sports and pastimes, but one day 
Robin declared that the deer were 
no longer in the velvet ; they had 
left the seclusion of the thickets 
and sought the open, and they 
would have a great hunt on the 


128 


Bold Robin 


morrow, even though the King had 
declared that he and his court 
would range the forest in their 
quest. 

They set off when the first 
streaks of red stained the morning 
sky, even before the fretful owl 
had finished his complaint. The 
dim paths of the forest were yet 
sweet with the scents that come 
with the dark : but anon, with the 
sunshine, give place to the odors 
of ripe berries and flowers. 

They took their way right mer- 
rily to the depths of the forest, 
where in long, lush glades fed the 
King’s red deer. They came upon 
the herd, cropping greedily the 
dewy grass. Suddenly a doe 
with a fawn at her side pricked 
up a sensitive ear, stamped quick 


The Doughty Page 129 

with her black hoof. A whistle 
and snort ! and they were off 
with the speed of the wind. The 
rangers followed fast and far. It 
was not till near nightfall that 
they came within bowshot of the 
herd again. Alack, it was only 
the doe which lingered with her 
fawn that had been sorely hurt by 
thorns and torn in thickets they 
had crashed through. 

“ Ping ! ” went an arrow. And 
Jock o’ Nimble Heels laid low the 
doe, shot through the heart. There 
were but half a dozen rangers by, 
the others were scattered far and 
near, and they rushed upon the 
deer to finish her with the knife. 
Sir Doughty Page was among 
them. When he reached the doe’s 
side its sad eyes sought his, with a 


130 Bold Robin 

moan it feebly licked its fawn, and 
fell dead finished by Robin’s knife, 
which brought a great spouting jet 
of blood. Sir Page shrieked and 
fell at Robin’s feet as if dead. 

“What’s to do here!” cried 
Robin affrighted, and he fell upon 
his knees to feel if the lad’s heart 
still beat. On the instant the 
winding of a mellow horn gave 
token of the approach of other 
hunters. 

“The King — the King comes! 
quick, make for the coppice.” Be- 
fore Robin could gather up the lad 
in his arms a great cavalcade came 
sweeping up the glade. First were 
the trumpeters with trumpet at lip. 
Then the royal standard bearers 
with long staff on toetip ; then a 
gay company of courtiers clad in 


The Doughty Page 131 

russet leather hunting garb, each 
with his plume proudly floating 
from the peak of his leather cap. 
Then the King, apparelled simply 
as the others of his train, came at- 
tended on either hand by his gen- 
tlemen, and behind followed the 
bearers and the gamekeepers. In 
spite of the lack of the brave glitter 
of courtdress it was an imposing 
spectacle, as it swept by. And 
Robin let the lad sink on the grass 
again and bent the knee. 

But at the smell of fresh blood, 
the King’s horse grew terrified and 
reared aloft frightfully, and would 
have fallen backward on his royal 
master and crushed him had not 
Robin leaped high, snatched at the 
bridle with one hand, while with 
the doubled fist of the other he 


132 


Bold Robin 


dealt the mad beast a stunning 
blow between the ears that brought 
him to earth, staggering. The 
King quickly dismounted. No 
sooner had he set foot upon the 
ground than his eye fell upon the 
deer, and upon the lad. Both, to 
him, seemed dead. 

“What have we here, forester?” 
he asked sternly. “ Has murder 
been done ? ” The courtiers closed 
around him as he spoke, with 
weapons ready. 

Robin fell on his knees and said 
humbly, “ ’T is no murder. ’T is 
Sir Page who sickened at the sight 
of blood, and at the sorrow of the 
stricken deer, like any girl ! ” 

‘“Like any girl,’ in truth!” 
cried the King’s chamberlain, who 
was staring intently into the page’s 


The Doughty Page 133 

face. “ ’T is a girl, your Majesty! 
’T is the lost Maid Marian!” 

“Sirrah, how came she here?” 
cried the King in deep anger. 
“ The truth ! or, by the Rood, 
your life shall pay forfeit!” 

Robin rose from his knees and 
bent over the page and said falter- 
ingly : “ My gracious King ! I 
knew not till this moment that 
’t was a maid. Can it be the little 
Maid Marian that I knew ere I 
sought Sherwood — the sprightly, 
saucy, tricksy maid? Yes it must 
be, now I bethink me of our life 
these two months ! ” 

“ ’T is she, for a surety ! ” in- 
sisted the chamberlain. 

“ Hast thou decoyed a maid 
from my court, bold Robin — ” be- 
gan the King harshly, but the maid 


134 


Bold Robin 


roused and seeing stern faces bent 
above her, cried out : “ Spare him ! 
Truly, sire, he never guessed ’twas 
Maid Marian ! ” 

“ What of the maid who would 
be so bold — ” quired the King 
severely. 

“ I longed so to see my playmate, 
Robin, that when I came to Not- 
tingham with the court, I were fain 
to seek him out, and when I found 
him he knew me not at all, three years 
had worked such a change in me. 
But after I came upon him and he 
led me to the Tristal Tree, then I 
found him out. Methinks I ’ll stay 
and be a ranger, too, but I ’ll not 
tell Robin for fear he ’ll deny me. 
Have I not been a brave ranger, 
good Robin?” 

A smile crossed the stern lips of 


The Doughty Page 135 

the King, and his glance fell upon 
the deer. 

“Three years have indeed 
brought about great changes,” said 
Robin, his gaze fastened on the 
page. “ Else I ’d have known ! 
By my faith ! I was on the edge of 
knowing all the time!” “Now, 
thou hast done this bold trick,” 
said the King to the page — “what 
’s to be done with thee? The 

court ladies will none ” 

“ Nay, I care not for them ! 
Painted faces — false tongues — ” 
cried the maid scornfully, forget- 
ting the courtesy due the King — 
“I ’ll even bide with Robin I ” 

The King smiled ; the courtiers 
placed their hands across their lips. 
But Robin kneeled again before the 
King and cried : 


136 


Bold Robin 


“ My Lord and King ! Let it 
be so ! Give the maid to me to 
wife and at set of sun good Friar 
Tuck will read the lines for us.” 

“ ’T is the best way out of it ! ” 
mused the King. Then he said 
aloud: “As thou hast just done 
us a great favor, even to the saving 
of your sovereign’s life, we grant 
your prayer right willingly. After 
this spare, too, his good red deer ! ” 

The King smiled graciously, 
remounted, and the chase swept 
merrily on. 

Under the Tristal Tree, at set of 
sun, a merry blast was blown from 
Robin’s own horn. The rangers 
came trooping from covert glee- 
fully, for they knew well Robin was 
a joyous man when he sounded so 
mellow a blast. But their wonder 


The Doughty Page 137 

knew no bounds when he took the 
blushing page by the hand and 
lead him up to good Friar Tuck, 
who before a rude altar mar- 
ried them in the presence of the 
full company of Robin’s merry 
men. 


















JOCK O’ NIMBLE HEELS 




/ 



























JOCK O’ NIMBLE HEELS 
T the outermost edge of the 



■'*' forest, where the King’s high- 
way crossed a goodly stream, stood 
an ancient water-mill. The waters 
of this little river were caught by a 
dam, and with loud complaining 
were made to turn the huge moss- 
grown wheel. And the wheel 
groaned because the great buckets 
were always to be filled, and be- 
cause the miller never had enough 
water, never let the wheel rest dur- 
ing the long hours of the summer 
day. So long, so very long, it had 
turned that it was coated with green 
like one of Robin’s own men. And 


142 


Bold Robin 


the huge millstones, they, too, 
gritted and snarled because they 
were so hard-worked. But one day 
the miller’s man, Darby, was taken 
with a fit of choler from overwork 
and ran away. Then the mill- 
stones stopped grinding and the 
big mossy wheel fell idle, and the 
murmuring river leaped its liveliest 
because it had no great buckets 
to fill, and could hurry that much 
faster to the sea. 

It was hard on the miller, this 
flight of Darby, for there was none 
to help him handle the hundred- 
weights of flour the inn - keeper 
must have before to-morrow’s sun, 
for there was a week’s baking and 
brewing ahead of him, since the 
messenger had come from the court 
saying that the King would hunt 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 143 

in Sherwood that day a se’ennight. 
And it was hinted that he would 
hunt more than the red deer ! — even 
Robin Hood and his merry men. 
The messenger, as gallant a young 
knight as ever ran King’s errands, 
had been sore set upon by some of 
Robin’s rangers, who had despoiled 
him of his gay coat of silk and 
put on him some wight’s dirty fus- 
tian jacket, had stripped him of his 
nether garments to the toe and had 
dressed him in the leathern cast-offs 
of some yokel, and had sent him on 
his way to Nottingham, so that the 
inn-keeper could hardly believe him 
a King’s messenger till convinced by 
a sound kicking, so great the differ- 
ence did dress make ! Who could 
brook such insolence from a forest 
outlaw? Not the King, verily! 


144 


Bold Robin 


Judith, the miller’s daughter, a 
buxom maid, pink of skin, fair of 
hair, merry of heart, had come to 
his help. She could shift an hun- 
dred-weight of wheat and turn it 
into the hopper as deftly as any 
lad. But it went sore against 
the miller that his daughter, his 
only one, be brought to labor like 
any yokel glad of a few groats a 
day. 

“If ’t were not for yon thief 
Robin it would ne’er have come 
about 1” he growled to the maid. 
“And Master Sprowl says that the 
young knight was sore set upon 
and beaten, and dressed in dirty 
fustian, after he had been wal- 
loped in the mud in all his court 
finery!” 

The maid could scarce keep from 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 145 

tittering, — not having learned that 
reverence due her betters, as well 
as her sire, — as she saw in her 
mind, the court fop thus brought 
low. She said : “ He must have 

been a valiant fellow, not to have 
got the other’s green coat, at least. 
Methinks it would become a dandy 
right well ! ” 

“Faith, he did 1 But right un- 
willingly, I ’d swear ! For he came 
to the inn clad, for all the world, 
like one of Robin’s dirty rangers, in 
jerkin of tattered green fustian, and 
breeches of greasy deer-hide ; with 
ne’er a shirt to his back.” 

“ How chopfallen he must have 
looked! I ’d ’a’ given my best 
Sunday ribbon to have but peeped 
at him ! I ’d like to see a ranger 
come it over me ! ” she finished 


146 


Bold Robin 


braggingly, tossing her head till a 
cloud of flour dust rose from it. 

“Aye! aye! ’T would not be 
likely, seeing how thou comest it 
over every lad in the countryside. 
’T would be a sad day for the var- 
let. He’d surely fall pierced to 
the heart by one o’ your bonny 
glances as a buck by one of 
Robin’s aimed arrows ! ” The maid 
and the miller turned hastily, 
and through the dusky space 
across which was flung one broad 
sunbeam full of dancing flour- 
moats, they saw in the doorway 
a slender youth. In the strong 
light he stood revealed, — a tatter- 
demalion — besmeared with mud, 
which he had tried to wipe off his 
brave silken coat. 

“Good Master Sprowl tells me 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 147 

you need a man sorely, since that 
lout Darby hath so basely forsook 
you ! ” 

The youth’s hair, black as crow’s 
pinion, was tumbled about his 
shoulders ; there were scratches 
half healed on his smooth cheek ; 
he looked as if he had been sore 
set upon, and the miller, his mind 
full of the plight of the King’s 
messenger, said : 

“ Sirrah, thou look’st as if thou 
too had met bold Robin ! ” 

“By’r Lady! I met som”un, 
and we had a merry bout; sticks 
and cudgels ’gainst a jewelled 
sword ! ’Odds blood ! The sword 
went spinning in two pieces, while 
the cudgel, may it crack the var- 
let’s skull yet, was hurt not a jot ! 
But, a-lack-a-day ! it cracked upon 


I4S 


Bold Robin 


my pate — said to be the thickest of 
all the King’s men, and laid me 
low.” 

There was a purple wale at the 
edge of his shock of hair, and a 
green lump on his forehead as big 
as a goose egg, which gave proof 
that what he said was true. 

“Surely ’t is the King’s messen- 
ger!” whispered the maid, in a 
flutter, to her father. 

“ More like his waiting man ! ” 
growled the miller, and he put the 
question plumply. 

The lad answered : “ Why — , 
y-e-e-e-s — , good miller, I am ! 
Thou ’rt as sharp as thy burrs! ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! Ho, ho, ho ! — He 
thinks my burrs grow on a bush 
by the wayside ! He, he, he ! ” 
The youth seemed much put out 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 149 

of countenance, but all he said 
was: “I hope to learn much o’ 
thee, miller o’ Sherwood! That’s 
why I ’m come.” 

The miller was mightily pleased 
and said: “Why, lad — would’st 
leave the glitter o’ the court for 
the white bloom o’ the mill ?” 

He spoke truly, for a bloom of 
white dust, as plain as the bloom 
of the grape, was sprinkled over 
everything. It spread thickly and 
evenly over his own shoulders ; 
his eyes peeped out from a ring of 
it like steel-blue points ; the red 
of his skin was tempered by it to 
a lovely pink, like a lady’s fresh 
from her tiring ; hearty and whole- 
some he looked as a peach in its 
prime. The maid, too, had her 
share of the fine white dust, and 


Bold Robin 


150 

gazed at the bold, handsome lad 
from fringed lids overburdened 
with it, set in a face pallid with it. 
The youth returned her look with 
rather too much of ardor, and she 
looked down as meek as a pictured 
Virgin, coyly fingering the corner 
of her blue hempen apron, with 
now and then a modest upward 
ray from eyes as blue as spots 
in the sky overlaid with wool- 
white clouds. “Truly her cheek 
hath the real bloom of the peach ; 
and her hair, the tint of the ripe 
corn!” thought the lad. He was 
brought roughly to earth again by 
the miller asking : 

“ What can you do, sirrah ? ” 

“ I can carry that bag the maid 
set down, and tend the — the — • 
the till ” 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 151 

“ Crack one, too, I dare swear!” 
roared the miller, laughing at his 
own jest. 

“Thou’st too cunning a wit! 
None could put upon thee!” cried 
Jock. 

“Aye, aye! ’Tis true enough.” 
said the miller complacently, wag- 
ging his head. “For when Darby 
would ’a’ made off with my nag, 
and my bag of silver from under 
my pillow, I gave him a bat o’ the 
head that nigh floored him ! ” And 
the miller puffed with pride at his 
own valor. The youth smiled be- 
hind his hand while pretending to 
throw back the long locks of his 
tumbled hair. 

“ Father, father ! ” whispered the 
maid, “Try him! His eyes are 
not stridden, and his legs are not 


152 


Bold Robin 


bowed round as a cart wheel like 
Darby’s — they’re as straight as 
any of Robin’s feathered shafts!” 

“Tut, tut! girl. It takes more 
than bold black eyes and straight 
legs to make a miller’s man. It 
takes brawn ! ” and the miller 
swelled out his broad chest. Turn- 
ing to the youth he said : 

“Let ’s see, lad, if thou canst 
heft yon bag ! ” It was the one the 
maid had let fall when she saw the 
lad in the sun ray at the door. He 
caught it up, — though his arm 
seemed as slight as a two-year-old 
apple twig, — slung it on his back, 
atop the mud stained red coat, 
and ran up a near-by ladder like a 
cat. 

“ Hum, hum ! a hundred-weight 
he tosses as if ’t were a truss of 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 153 

straw ! Darby crept aloft like a 
wheezy granny, with scarce half 
that weight. It ’s good to see ! 
With him to get the grain to the 
hopper we ’ll soon have Master 
Sprowl’s wheat ground!” The 
miller’s broad face was turned up- 
wards watching the youth, and he 
saw him scale a second and a third 
ladder to the very last loft, where 
the grain was thrown into the 
shoots, to come creeping down, 
down till at last it was crunched 
into fine flour. 

“ Come back, lad ! Come back ! ” 
called the miller. The youth re- 
turned with a rush and a scamper 
and jumped lightly from the second 
rung near the top of the last ladder, 
raising a cloud of white dust which 
set him coughing. 


i54 


Bold Robin 


“ How are you called, lad?” the 
miller asked. 

“I ’m called Jock o’ Nimble 
Heels — because there ’s none in 
the — the — in the court so nimble 
of foot as I.” 

“ That I can well believe ! ” mur- 
mured Judith. Jock heard, put his 
hand on his heart, and swept her a 
courtly bow.. 

“Well, Jock, I ’ll give thee 
bed and board and twelve groats 
the day. Thy bed thou ’It find 
aloft ” 

“ ’T is scarce fit for the red pig ! ” 
murmured Judith discontentedly in 
her father’s ear. 

“Tut, tut! lass, what ’s good 
enough for one man ’s good enough 
for another !” 

“ Quite good enough for Jock — 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 155 

true, miller! I ’ve no complaint 
to make ; it matters little so ’s I ’ve 
a place to stretch me, since I sleep 
like a log ! ” 

“’T is a bargain, then?” cried 
the miller. 

“Aye, 't is a bargain ! ” Jock re- 
plied with an eye on the lass. 
She gave him a shy, pleased look 
and said : “Shall I show him the 
pile of bags, father, and how to set 
the flume a-turning the great wheel, 
and how to turn the grist into the 
hopper ?” 

“Yes, yes! ’T is high time the 
mill-stones were grinding if the 
inn-keeper’s flour were ready ’gainst 
the coming of the court ! ” 

In a few moments a clatter filled 
the mill, which, added to the rush 
of the weir, drowned the chuckle 


Bold Robin 


156 

Jock gave as he mounted the ladder 
with a great bag of grain on his 
shoulder. 

Jock proved a useful lad, and 
after the third day could do his 
part as well as Darby for all his 
years of work. Many were the 
errands Judith made to the mill ; 
for the miller’s living-rooms were 
under the same roof. Many times 
a dingy, red sleeve found its way 
round a plump waist bound by the 
blue strings of a hempen apron. 

Time ran on ; the King was to 
come a-hunting any time now. It 
was ten o’ the clock; the lad and 
the lass stood at the wide door 
opening on the King’s highway. 
Beyond, dark and green, loomed 
Sherwood, where the King’s deer 
— and nobler game mayhap — were 



MANY WERE THE ERRANDS JUDITH MADE TO THE MILL 





9 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 157 

to be hunted. But they saw nothing 
save each other. 

Suddenly a clatter roused them 
and four brave outriders came into 
view. Behind them followed a 
company of archers afoot, their 
strings taut, their quivers full. 
Then came a coach marvellously 
bedecked, its six white horses 
housed in sweeping purple cloth of 
velvet fringed with gold. From 
their foretops nodded long white 
plumes. The coachmen and foot- 
men were tricked out in the royal 
livery of crimson and gold. 

“ Sure ’t is the passage of the 
King to Sherwood ! ” whispered 
the maid to Jock, who, instead of 
answering, fell back out of sight 
as the coach with the King clat- 
tered by. A space behind the coach 


158 Bold Robin 

followed a merry company of the 
King’s gentlemen The sound of 
tinkling chains and grinding swords 
quite drowned the clatter of the 
mill. Another space, and came 
the Sheriff and his men. Soon the 
clatter of the royal passage was lost 
in the forest, and no sound came 
back save the stealthy whisper of 
leaves that seemed awed by the 
glory of the sight of the King. 

Jock and the miller worked hard 
all the rest of the day, for drought 
had held now nigh on to three 
weeks, and none knew when the 
great mossy wheel would stop for 
want of water. By evening the 
miller was well spent, so quickly 
and busily had Jock poured the 
grain into the hopper. It was now 
sunset, and when the fiery orb had 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 159 

slid out of sight, and a gentle gray 
took the place of the flaming red 
that had blazoned the west, the 
miller’s man caught sound of hoof- 
beats, not fast and lively but slow 
as a funeral. It was the hunt 
returning. Soon came creeping 
by a dragging, weary cavalcade. 
Every face that was not crestfallen 
was sullen. Even the kingly 
countenance was dour. And the 
poor Sheriff! his look was piteously 
downcast as he crept behind the 
company as far as he dared. 

When they came alongside the 
great open mill doors, for some 
reason, the outriders’ horses came 
to a stand of their own will, per- 
haps because they were hungry 
and smelled the grain. This 
brought those behind up with a 


i6o Bold Robin 

jerk, horses backing into each 
other, the whole in confusion. 

Jock and the miller rushed to the 
help of the King’s outriders, for 
the horses of the royal coach were 
rearing frightfully. 

Jock held to the bit of one of 
the leaders, while a gentleman of 
the court a-horse, grasped the rein 
of its mate. Together they sub- 
dued the frantic beasts. 

The gentleman looked toward 
his helper that he might speak 
thanks in the King’s name. But 
his jaw fell, his eyes stared fixedly 
for a moment, then he came to 
himself and bawled out — in spite 
of the presence of the King : 

“ ’T is he ! ’T is he ! Here — 
here is the villain that set upon 
me !” He gasped and spluttered 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 161 

so that at first none understood 
him. Jock meantime turned and 
fled into the mill. The last he 
heard was — “Shoot the varlet — 
Shoot the varlet I ’T is either 
Robin Hood or one of his men!” 

There was a wild leaping from 
horses, and such a clatter of 
swords it sounded as if the good- 
wife’s coppers had all fallen to the 
ground. 

Jock came full tilt against Judith, 
who, awed by the royal presence, 
had hidden behind the huge door 
that she might peep unseen 
through the crack. 

“Help me Judith!” he panted, 
“ If you ever loved me, help me 
now ! ” 

She stared at him not knowing 
what he meant. He urged in a 


162 


Bold Robin 


lowvoice: “Oh Judith, help me now 
lass, if you ’d save my life. The 
Sheriff will take me and ’twon’t be 
long till I’m food for buzzards!” 

“What — what ! ” she gasped, 
shocked. 

“Yes, yes ! ’ T is true. I ’m one 
of Robin’s men ! ” 

Outside, by now, the medley of 
noise had sunk into silence, which 
betokened some sane action was 
meditated. 

Judith regained her wits and 
cried: “Come, come with me, 
Jock! I’ll save thee, for I do love 
thee!” She fled up the ladder 
and led him to a small closet now 
so dark and dim they could scarce 
see in it; she opened a little slit 
of a door that gave on to the vast 
wheel, it was here that the wheel- 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 163 

wright did his tinkering. Now the 
big wheel was at rest, caught back 
by a stout lever. Jock stared at it 
not sensing what she would do. 

“Canst swim lad?” 

Jock nodded and said shortly: 
“Like a duck!” 

“In, then, in! and I’ll let thee 
down into the stream, then when 
the bucket strikes the water thy 
wits must tell thee the rest!” 

“And you, Judith, you — ” he 
questioned as he stood with one 
foot ready to spring into the bucket. 
— “Will harm come to you — shall 
I never see you again ?” 

“ Oh foolish Jock, go, go ! ” 

“ But will I ” 

She gave him a push, for a 
great rush of feet sounded, enter- 
ing the mill. 


l6 4 Bold Robin 

“But will I ” 

“Yes, yes! But in — in!" 

He squeezed his slender length 
into the bucket, green with moss 
and adrip with water. With one 
jerk she loosed the wheel. It 
dipped to the water’s surface, and 
when Jock had dived under, she 
made it fast again. Then she fled 
to the darkest corner just as the 
King’s men scrambled up the lad- 
der in full chase. 

“ Didst see the villain ? ” cried 
the King’s messenger, when he 
found her out. 

“ Y-e-e-e-s 1 ” sobbed the lass, 
“he fled aloft as fast as the deer 
before the arrow of Robin Hood ! ” 

The messenger paused at the 
sight of her distress, and said : 
“ Ha, lass ! Thou ’rt mistaken, 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 165 

vastly ! The deer seem to have 
fled from us. Not one could 
we find, though we sought in the 
haunts of the villain, even to the 
Tristal Tree, where, by ’r Lady, 
would we could hang him and all 
his followers I But we saw neither 
hair nor hide of him — ” 

“ Nor deer’s neither?” inno- 
cently inquired the maid. 

“ I ’ve said it I ” replied the 
King’s messenger, pettishly. 

She pointed to the long flight of 
ladders, stretching up like spider- 
webs in the dim light. Up trooped 
the company, treading on each 
other’s heels and fingers ! 

Down below in the dark green 
water a great circle spread, and 
soon, from behind an oak on the 
far side of the stream, two eyes 


Bold Robin 


1 66 

peered up at the old mill intently. 
A shadow darkened a dusky upper 
window. 

“ Ah ! There they are, hot on 
the trail. It will be as bootless 
as that in the forest this morn. 
Trust Robin for that, after the 
word I bore him 1 ” He chuckled 
softly. “ ’T is time to be gone ! ” 
Then he sighed. “ But yonder 
was a shrewd maid, and pretty as 
a forest rose, withal ! ” 

He slipped from behind the tree, 
melted into the black, and skimmed 
from bush to bush till he was a dim 
shape in the gloom of Sherwood. 

The fore part of the night he 
travelled the forest paths till many 
miles were between him and the 
mill. At last, when the gibbous 
moon rose, near midnight, he came 


Jock o’ Nimble Heels 167 

upon Robin and his crew, in one 
of their most secret haunts, safe 
in the shelter of a green retreat 
so cunningly contrived, that the 
King’s company might well be 
deceived, for, of a surety, it could 
have been found by none save one 
of Robin’s rangers. 

“ But Jock, why did you tarry 
so long at the miller’s ? After you 
had learned the King’s plans and 
sent us notice, surely it were folly 
to stay longer. Then, too, thou ’st 
missed the rarest of sport, that of 
baiting the King and all his court. 
Not so much as a brocket did they 
see ! ” 

The moonlight, bright as crystal 
lit Jock’s face. He twisted un- 
easily under the captain’s gaze, and 
Robin laughed: — “Ah! Young 


Bold Robin 


1 68 

blood ’s to blame, I see ! A lass, 
I suppose?” 

Jock laughed shamefacedly, then 
said, warmly : “ The bravest, 

shrewdest that e’er was, or I had 
not been here now ! ” — and he told 
Robin of his escape. 

“ She well deserves a place un- 
der the Tristal Tree ! ” cried Robin 
warmly, “and she shall come if 
thou canst persuade her — and be 
a friend to Mistress Marian, and a 
spouse to thee, Jock o’ Nimble 
Heels ! ” 


THE FEAST IN THE FOREST 




169 



THE FEAST IN THE FOREST 


\T OONTIDE stillness brooded 
1 ’ over the forest, which was 
disturbed only by the flutter of 
birds’ wings and the bark of a tiny 
squirrel. The sun hung noon- 
high over a dell of greenest sward, 
in the centre of which stood a 
solitary oak. A mighty forest gir- 
dled this sylvan spot with walls of 
densest greenery. Suddenly the 
hush was broken by a sound so 
silvery and gleeful that the squir- 
rel paused to listen before he 
scampered away with swift swish 
of tail, and the bird poised on 


172 


Bold Robin 


wing an instant to hear this rival 
of the sky-lark before it took flight 
to the deeper glades beyond. 

A solitary figure, clad in green 
from top to toe, stood under the 
oak, at his lips a silver hunting- 
horn, from which had proceeded 
the mellow strains. Instantly, to 
the witchery of its notes, sprang 
from their hiding places a goodly 
company of strong men to the 
number of seven-score. They, like 
their summoner, were clad in long 
mantles of Lincoln green, covering 
jerkin and breeches of leather. On 
their heads were green caps. Each 
man carried a long bow, and slung 
over his shoulder, a quiver full 
of arrows barbed with silver and 
winged with the split feathers of the 
grey goose. A few carried swords, 


The Feast in the Forest 173 

and others long staves of white- 
thorn. 

Quickly they bent the knee ; then 
one, rising, said: “What is thy 
will, Good Robin?” 

“ My brave Will Scarlett, my 
wish is sure to be thine, since it is 
no less than to invite a guest to 
dine.” 

The others rising, closed ’round 
their leader under the Tristal Tree, 
and cried : “Ours too, good mas- 
ter ! ” Then they broke into a jolly 
laugh in which Robin joined. 

At this moment two belated fol- 
lowers came from the depths of the 
wood, bearing between them a dun 
deer of goodly size, which they laid 
at Robin’s feet, kneeling and doff- 
ing their bonnets. 

“Verily, my good fellows, thou 


i74 


Bold Robin 


hast done right well, and furnished 
us meat for the feast ! ” said Robin 
smiling so that his white teeth 
gleamed between his bearded lips. 

“Thou, good Little John, and 
thou too, good George o’ Green, 
shalt go with me to bring in the 
guests!” And again all laughed, 
for they well knew Robin’s mean- 
ing. 

Then Robin turned to his men 
and gave orders to prepare the 
meal. Some he appointed to roast 
the deer ; others to follow the wild 
bees home and rob them of their 
golden honey; others to draw the 
ale ; some to buy from the nearest 
farmer’s wife brown and white 
bread, and tarts : for Robin never 
robbed the poor of anything. Turn- 
ing to a brawny, red-faced man 


The Feast in the Forest 175 

with shaven head, whose green 
mantle scarce covered his fat fig- 
ure, clad in a grey serge gown tied 
about the middle with a hempen 
cord, he said: “To thee, Friar 
Tuck, I leave command of my 
merry men, and a most congenial 
task — cooling the red wine in 
yonder beck,” pointing to the for- 
est from whence came faintly the 
purling of a tiny stream. 

Slinging his silver horn over his 
shoulder, Robin drew around him 
his mantle of green, and, signaling 
to the two whom he had chosen to 
be his companions, they took to a 
forest path and were soon lost 
among the drooping greenery. 
They walked a mile or so till they 
came to a narrow road at the outer 
edge of the forest. At the com- 


176 


Bold Robin 


mand of Robin, each man took up 
his station behind the grey bole of a 
mighty tree, to await the coming of 
whatever guests fortune might send 
them to grace their feast. 

Not long they waited, when a 
faint tinkling of bells, followed later 
by the soft beat of hoofs in the dust 
of the road, announced their ap- 
proach. The turn of the road which 
brought them into view showed a 
small train of sumpter-horses, fol- 
lowed by a company of six monks 
mounted excellently well. They 
were dressed in the grey habit of 
the neighbouring monastery — long 
coarse gowns belted at the waist 
with hempen ropes, and cowls 
drawn over their heads. With them 
was the Lord Abbot, who wore the 
same dress as his companions, only 


The Feast in the Forest 177 

his genet’s trappings showing a 
difference of rank. He was sing- 
ing a gay lilt, one line of which 
reached Robin : 

“The convent was clothed in grey 


“Aye, my Lord Abbot, and with 
purse well lined with gold,” said 
Robin to himself. 

Just then all the good friars burst 
into a rollicking chorus : 

“Tirra-lee, tirra-lee, 
Nothing but good red wine for me!” 

At that moment Robin and his 
men stood forth, and with his hand 
on the Abbot’s rein, the leader said : 

“ It awaits you, my Lord Abbot, 
under the Tristal Tree, not far from 
here I ” 

“How now, sirrah! Who art 


1 78 


Bold Robin 


thou that would stop the Lord Ab- 
bot himself in the broad light o’ 
day ?” 

“I, my lord, am Robin Hood; 
these, my merry men. We are 
free rangers of Sherwood Forest.” 

“That thou usest a free bow I 
am well convinced, for I ’ve scarce 
seen a deer with full grown horns 
in all this greenwood,” said the 
Abbot, waving his hand abroad. 

Then, gathering up the reins, 
which Robin still grasped, he said : 

“Stand aside, my good sir, — 
the path is but narrow, — and let 
me and my company proceed on 
our journey ! ” 

“By your leave,” answered 
Robin, “you and your company 
must abide with us awhile. We 
live under the greenwood tree in 


The Feast in the Forest 179 

this wide forest, and eat of the 
King’s deer. We have no other 
way of making a living. Thou 
hast churches, with lands and gold. 
Give us of thy plenty for sweet 
charity’s sake!” 

Said the Abbot : “I have brought 
but little gold — no more than fifty 
pounds. For the last fortnight I 
have been staying with the King 
at Nottingham, and have spent 
much gold on the court. I give 
thee what I have, and had I a 
hundred pounds would give it thee 
right willingly.” 

Robin took the gold, and, di- 
viding it in two parts, gave one to 
his two followers, and handed the 
other back to the Abbot, saying : 

“Sir Abbot, keep this for your 
own spending.” 


180 Bold Robin 

The Abbot thanked him, and 
said : “ Sir, the King greeteth thee 
and sendeth thee his seal. He 
inviteth thee to come to court 
at Nottingham, and partake of his 
hospitality.” 

Robin took the seal from the 
Abbot’s hand, and recognised it as 
being truly the King’s. He fell on 
his knees and said : “I love no 
man in all the world so well as I 
love my King. Thou art welcome 
for thy tidings, and for these and 
for the love I bear the King thou 
shalt dine with me under the green- 
wood tree.” The Abbot, glancing 
up at the sun, which was not more 
than an hour past noon, replied : 

“As the hour is not late, and thou 
art so kind, we will dine with thee 
gladly ; for the winds of your for- 


The Feast in the Forest 181 

est do whet my appetite for the 
King’s venison. Lead on, good 
Robin, and we will follow!” 

Robin, with the bridle of the Ab- 
bot’s white Andalusian genet over 
his arm, led the way; and behind 
followed singly the other friars, 
while George o’ Green and Little 
John brought up the rear of this 
strange procession. 

They turned into a narrow wood- 
land path that wound in and out 
among the trees, which formed a 
green canopy overhead through 
which not a sun-ray penetrated. 
When they had almost reached 
the dell where the Tristal Tree was, 
Robin drew from under his cloak 
his silver horn, and on it blew three 
sharp blasts. Again, to its magic 
call appeared before him a company 


i8a 


Bold Robin 


of seven score men. All bowed 
the knee, and with bows ready and 
arrows set, awaited his commands. 
The Abbot and his men were silent 
with surprise. 

“Here is a wondrous sight,” 
whispered the Abbot to the friar 
nearest him. “These men are 
more obedient to do his commands 
and readier to do his bidding than 
are mine !” 

Robin, loosing his hold on the 
Abbot’s rein, said : “ My men, we 
have noble guests to-day. My 
Lord Abbot and his followers dine 
with us. Is the feast prepared?” 

In answer Will Scarlett rose 
from his knees and said : “ It is 
ready, good Robin. Venison as 
fine and fat as e’er feasted a king, 
is smoking on the coals ; the good 


The Feast in the Forest 183 

ale foams; and Friar Tuck, at the 
winding of the horn, hastened to 
the brook to fetch the wine.” 

“My Lord Abbot, and gentle- 
men, in yonder stream — the same 
that served to cool the red wine 
which in a few moments will tickle 
your throats — you may like to 
wash off the dust of the highway,” 
said Robin. 

The Abbot dismounted, and 
closely followed by the others, 
was lead by Will Scarlett to the 
brook, where, after laving their 
hands and faces, they let the winds 
of heaven dry them. 

Robin took the Abbot by the 
hand and led him forward under 
the Tristal Tree where the feast 
was spread. “Make good cheer, 
my Lord Abbot, and when thou 


184 


Bold Robin 


hast feasted we will show you how 
we live in the forest.” 

Soon all were seated, about a 
cloth of nature’s finest weaving, — 
the velvet sward, green and thick, 
— while the long arms of the 
Tristal Tree spread in kindly 
protection above them, its leaves 
whispering all the while a rippling 
tune accompanied by the deeper 
tones of the beck near at hand. 

The wooden trenchers were 
heaped with smoking venison and 
great slices of white and brown 
bread, honey with the flavour of 
flowers, clotted cream as golden 
as daisies’ hearts, and goodly pies 
of warden pears made the lips of 
the hungry friars glisten with 
moisture. Dry throats were wet 
with the amber ale, and healths 


The Feast in the Forest 185 

were drunk in the red wine as cool 
as the brown depths of the brook. 
The feasting was long and mighty, 
but at last the friars moved back 
with a sigh of satisfaction. 

Then Robin called out to two of 
his men: 

“Set up the wands, and we will 
show my Lord Abbot we can shoot 
as well as feast ! ” 

Thereupon, two wands cut from 
a willow tree were set up at forty 
paces, and garlanded with wild 
roses which grew in the forest 
glades. 

“ Whoever faileth to hit the gar- 
land,” said Robin, “forfeiteth two 
arrows, and must yield them up to 
his master, however fine ! He shall 
also receive a buffet on his head ; 
and no man shall be spared!” 


Bold Robin 


1 86 

At a nod from Robin, two men 
threw off their green mantles, and 
selected the best arrows from their 
quivers, carefully fitting them to 
the bowstring, made of the sinews 
of a deer. 

At the drop of an oak twig, 
“ Pang ! ” — off flew the arrows, cut- 
ting the roses from the garland. 

“ This is wondrous marksman- 
ship!” cried the Abbot, and the 
friars nodded agreement in silent 
answer, too amazed to speak. 

Then Robin took his stand, fit- 
ting his best arrow to the string, 
drew a mighty bow, and cleft the 
garland ; then he shot again, cleaving 
the second garland with the second 
arrow : but the third shot failed ! 

Up stepped Gilbert of the White 
Hand, and said : 


The Feast in the Forest 187 

“Master, thou hast failed ; stand 
forth and take thy pay ! ” 

“If so,” said Robin, “it cannot 
be mended” ; and he gave up two 
of his arrows, which Jock o’ Nim- 
ble Heels had fetched. “Sir 
Abbot, I give thee my arrows. I 
pray thee, give me my pay.” 

The Abbot folded up the long 
sleeve of his robe, but hesitating, 
said : 

“It becomes not one of my or- 
der to smite a man good and true.” 

“ Smite on boldly ! ” cried Robin. 

Whereupon, the Abbot gave 
Robin such a blow on the head 
with his folded sleeve, that he 
staggered and well nigh fell to the 
ground. 

“Thou art a sturdy friar!” cried 
Robin. “ There is strength in thine 


Bold Robin 


1 88 

arm ! I doubt not thou canst 
shoot.” 

As he spoke Robin gazed 
steadily into the Abbot’s face, as 
did Sir Richard of the Lea, and 
Will Scarlett, who were at Rob- 
in’s right hand. As he gazed his 
cheek grew pale, then red, and all 
three sank on their knees before 
the Abbot. 

“ My lord and my King ! ” he 
said in low and faltering tones. 
“ Now I know thee well ; and of thy 
goodness and grace beg of thee 
mercy, for me and my men under 
the Tristal Tree 1” 

Seeing their bold master on his 
knees, all his followers instantly 
fell to theirs, each laying down in 
front of him his bow as a sign of 
submission, not fully comprehend- 


The Feast in the Forest 189 

ing the singular scene, but waiting 
submissively its end. 

“ I grant thee thy petition,” said 
the King, — for it was he dressed in 
the borrowed garb of the Abbot, — 
“provided thou and thy men come 
to dwell with me at court.” 

“ It shall be so,” said Robin. 
“ I will bring with me seven-score 
and three of my brave yeomen.” 
But he looked longingly around 
the greenwood, through which the 
level rays of the setting sun were 
glinting. At the sound of a buck’s 
shrill whistle from the forest, his 
hand swiftly and involuntarily 
sought his quiver. It was with- 
drawn with a sigh ; he sank back 
humbly at the feet of the King. 

“To-morrow, good Robin, thou 
and thy merry men will join me 


Bold Robin 


190 

on my journey back to London 
town.” 

“ Be it so, my gracious lord and 
King!” Robin dolefully replied. 

“Join me on the forest road 
where we did encounter this 
morn,” commanded the King. 

The next morning, at sunrise, 
Robin, surrounded by his men, 
dressed all in green, with glisten- 
ing swords, and polished staves of 
white thorn, long bows unstrung, 
with crowded quivers, stood ready 
on the forest road, awaiting the 
King. The smell of dew laden 
roses was in the air, and far in the 
dim recesses of the distant glades 
the dun deer scampered. The 
birds sang a parting song so sweet 
and joyous that Robin felt it to be 
almost cruel in its lack of sympa- 


The Feast in the Forest 191 

thy. For he was to leave it all — 
the sunshine, the birds, the dun 
deer, and, above all, the beloved 
wood where for two-score years 
he had lived free and untram- 
melled, the forest yielding of its 
stores to his larder, and the trav- 
eller gold to his purse. 

Suddenly was heard the hurtle 
of arms, and again the faint beat 
of horses’ feet in the dusty road. 
Then a loud flourish of trumpets 
gave warning that the King drew 
near. In another moment the 
cavalcade appeared, all mounted 
First, came the trumpeters, play- 
ing a gay fanfare, closely followed 
by a company of spearsmen, bear- 
ing in the left hand steel-tipped 
spears, the butt resting on the left 
toe. Next, the King’s standard 


192 


Bold Robin 


bearer. Then the King himself, 
surrounded by the nobles of his 
court, in full armour, with visors 
thrown back. The King sat easily 
on his snow-white charger which 
impatiently pawed the earth when 
brought to halt. His face beamed 
with satisfaction when he saw Robin 
and his merry men awaiting him, 
dropped to the knee by the road- 
side. 

The King’s horse was almost 
covered with a royal purple saddle- 
cloth, richly embroidered with 
gold, which swept to the ground, 
and from it depended a deep 
golden fringe. The King himself 
wore a partial suit of armour, with 
high boots of soft russet leather, 
pointed sharply at the toes ; at his 
side his jewelled sword ; and over 


The Feast in the Forest 193 

all hung gracefully, in full folds, a 
rich purple mantle of cloth. On 
his head he wore a helmet of bur- 
nished steel with visor raised ; 
from its peak proudly waved four 
snow-white plumes. Around his 
neck, falling over his mantle, was 
a heavy gold chain, badge of his 
kingly office. His knights were 
similarly apparelled, though less 
richly, but none wore the purple 
mantle, the plumes and the gold 
chain that denoted the King. 

Immediately behind the King 
and the knights came a company 
of archers in suits of leather, each 
with his full quiver slung over his 
shoulder, and long-bow in hand, 
bent ready for use. The sumpter 
horses and grooms brought up the 
rear. 

*3 


i 9 4 


Bold Robin 


At sight of this martial retinue 
poor Robin’s heart sank, and he 
bitterly realised he was nothing 
more than a prisoner of the King. 

He and his men were placed 
between the knights and the bow- 
men. The signal was given. 
Again a blare of trumpets, and the 
stately march was taken up. 

A fitful wind shuddered through 
the tree tops a sigh of parting. 
Robin reechoed it as he cast a 
longing look down the cool dark 
glades of his beloved forest. It 
was soon left behind, obscured by 
a cloud of dust, from his back- 
turned gaze, and he saw it not 
again for many days. 

At first the novelty of the life at 
court diverted Robin and his men ; 
but one by one they slipped away, 


The Feast in the Forest 195 

until at the end of the year only 
Robin and a half dozen of his 
most faithful followers remained. 
The noise and confusion after the 
forest silence, the glare and the 
glitter after the woodland lights 
and shades, the restraint and cere- 
mony of court life after perfect 
freedom, filled Robin with such a 
longing for his beloved Sherwood 
that he fell ill. He pined for the 
peace and quiet of the woodland 
solitudes, to chase the dun deer 
through the crackling copses, to 
wander through secret wood paths 
with only his staunch followers. 

When he could endure it no 
longer he sought the King, and 
said: 

“ My lord and King, I am sick 
unto death. Permit me to go to 


196 


Bold Robin 


the monastery just without Sher- 
wood Forest, there to pray for the 
return of my health.” 

The King thought a moment, — 
for he did not quite trust him, — then 
said: “Good Robin, thou canst 
go. But see to it thou return in 
seven days. No longer stay, at 
my dire displeasure!” 

Robin set out with dolorous 
countenance; but the nearer he 
came to the forest, the more cheer- 
ful he became, till from his lips 
broke unconsciously a song : 

“ Sing heigh-ho for the greenwood 
tree! 

A life in the forest ’s the life for 
me ! ” 

When he entered the road by 
which he had gone to court, he 


The Feast in the Forest 197 

placed his lips to his horn, and 
blew a sharp blast, when lo ! there 
was a crackling through every bush, 
and before him stood those follow- 
ers that had deserted the court. 
They joyously renewed their fealty 
to Robin, declaring that never 
again would they be lured to the 
court. 


For many years they lived in the 
greenwood, when, one day, Robin 
fell ill, and, needing aid, went to 
the nunnery of Kirklees, where 
his cousin was prioress ; and she 
treacherously let him bleed to death 
to please his enemy, Sir Roger of 
Doncaster. They hid him away in 
a lofty tower ; but his faithful Will 
Scarlett, suspecting treachery, found 


198 


Bold Robin 


where he lay, climbed up by a vine, 
and gained an entrance to his room 
only in time to take his dying 
messages. 

“Give me my bent bow,” said 
Robin, faintly, “and I will let fly a 
broad arrow ; and let my grave be 
digged where that arrow be taken 
up.” 

The bow was handed him, the 
arrow fitted, and he raised himself 
feebly and through the open win- 
dow let fly the fleet arrow. He 
watched it cleave the blue sky, and 
then sink, spent, below his sight. 
With a sigh he fell back. 

“ Put a green sod under my head, 
and another at my feet, ’ ’ said Robin ; 
and his last breath floated away as 
gently as a summer zephyr. 

At the edge of the forest the 


The Feast in the Forest 199 

broad arrow was taken up, — for his 
feeble hand could not send it home 
to the deep shades he loved, — and 
there Robin was buried, where 
morning shade and evening sun- 
rays fell softly on his grave. 

The men in green wept as only 
the strong and brave can weep, 
without shame for their tears, at the 
death of Robin. They left his fa- 
vorite haunts, and sought the most 
retired parts of the forest, to mourn 
away from the sight of cruel men 
and the sounds of a gay and piti- 
less world. Many remained there 
to the end of their days ; a few went 
back to the towns. But never again 
was there feasting under the Tristal 
Tree, nor were the rose wreathed 
wands set up to be cleft by the 
swift arrow. No more the wild 


200 


Bold Robin 


frolic and the fleet chase of which 
brave Robin was the moving 
spirit ; for his like was never seen 
again. 

(Originally appeared in St. Nicholas.) 


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